#the way his fingers move on her face and the way her hand tightens on the back of his neck

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 6 (the finale)

Our time has come, this labor of love is *finished* (at least for now, i could probably be convinced to return to these loves soon)

warnings: none pairing: lando x singlemom!reader word count: 2k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername cold but happy carlossainz still can't believe you convinced Lando to spend Christmas in the cold. >>>yourusername oh it wasn't me! Stella said she wanted to learn how to ski, next thing I know he's booking a 2 week trip to Switzerland! >>>landonorris what my girl wants, my girl gets. 🤷🏻

Christmas, 2025 "Momma, are you sure Santa knows to bring my presents here this year and to not leave them at home?" The concern etched on Stella's face has you grinning into your wine glass.

"Yes, my darling." You assure her, patting her head as she snuggles deeper into Lando's side. "I wrote him a letter weeks ago, remember? You were with me when we mailed it! When you wake up tomorrow morning, all of your presents will be underneath that tree right over there."

This had been Stella's number one concern ever since Lando had announced that he'd booked a house at one of the most exclusive resorts in Gstaad, Switzerland for the Christmas holiday. You had spent a significant amount of time since discussing the fact that yes, Santa did know she wasn't going to be at home this year and yes, he would be able to deliver her presents here instead.

You had been in the mountain town for a few days now, spending nearly every waking moment on the slopes. It was beginning to feel routine, the way you all woke up around the same time and had breakfast together before getting your snow gear on and heading out onto the mountain. You had enrolled Stella in ski school that first day, despite Lando's protests that he could absolutely teach her to ski by himself, and she was thriving. It took a Herculean effort to get her off of her skis every evening but you were happy Stella was having fun.

Today you had managed to get Stella off the mountain early in order to go to dinner with Max and Pietra, who were also staying at the resort for Christmas. Max's initial reservations about Lando dating a single mom had long since evaporated into thin air, after he had seen how much both Stella and Lando adored each other this year. By the middle of the summer, you and Pietra had also become much closer as well, so you enjoyed traveling with Lando's friends who you now considered yours as well.

There was a crackling fire in the huge fireplace that took up most of the external wall of the large four bedroom chalet-style home and above the fireplace, Elf played on the tv. Stella was snuggled up between you and Lando, her head buried underneath Lando's arm, while her feet were stretched across your lap. Lando's arm is flung over the side of the couch, his fingers tangled in yours as his thumb brushes soft circles over the back of your hand. After a few days with a lot of activity, it felt nice to finally spend the evening relaxing in the quiet of your own space.

As the credits to Elf begin to roll, you tap Stella's feet, a signal that it's time to get moving. "Come on, baby girl, it's time for bed. Go brush your teeth and then I'll be in to read more of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and tuck you in, okay? The sooner you get to sleep, the faster Santa comes!"

Stella stretches out her legs and whines, sounding a lot like a cat after it wakes up from a long nap. "I want Dad to tuck me in tonight."

The entire world goes still as you suck in a breath at the name she just used for the very first time. On the other side of the couch, you see Lando freeze too, gaze snapping straight to you as his fingers tighten around yours. The request has your heart squeezing in your chest, a response to her question simply unable to form in your brain.

Stella senses the mood shift in the room and glances up first at you and then over at Lando. "What? Can't Daddy tuck me in just this once?"

Daddy.

Lando's stomach does a somersault up into his throat as he grips onto your hand for reassurance. Had she just...

It really shouldn't have been a surprise, he'd realize later once Stella was fast asleep and you were curled up in his arms in your shared bed. Ever since Silverstone back in July, Lando had practically moved in to your house in all but name. He'd decided to rent out his Monaco apartment to one of the new rookie drivers next season, choosing to remain full time in England where you were. The teachers and parents at school all knew him not as Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver but as the man that often picked up Stella from school whenever he was able to. Stella's teacher had even begun including him on her weekly email newsletters she always sent out on Friday afternoons. He was as ingratiated into this family as both you and Stella were.

But hearing her call him dad for the first time? The new title did something to Lando's heart that he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from.

Emotion claws at his throat as he struggles to find the simple words to answer her request.

"Of course he can, honey." You whisper, seeing the shock and adoration sit heavy on Lando's face. Your own voice is with thick with emotion too. "Do you need help finding some jammies to change into?" You ask as Stella slowly gets up from her little nest between you and Lando.

"Dad can help me." She says with a shrug, as if the name is the most natural thing in the world.

Lando moves to get off the couch as Stella pads down the hallway, the brand new teddy bear she had conned him into buying at a shop today tucked into the crook of her elbow. He squeezes your shoulder as you look up at him, brilliant smile stretching over your face.

"You okay?" You ask as he rounds the couch, following behind Stella, dazed look still on his face.

Lando rubs at the back of his neck, stopping for a moment before turning back to you. His eyes shimmer with tears as he glances behind him and then back at you. "I think so...is...is that okay with you? Her calling me..." He pauses, trying to work his mouth around the next word, "dad like that?"

You're surprised to see concern flit across his face, like you could possibly be upset at what had just happened. "Lando." You murmur, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. You slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His lips are warm despite the fact that his kiss is hesitant at first. He quickly reads the emotion you pour into him though: confidence, love, desire. All of it positive and he knows without needing to hear anything vocalized that you're just happy about his new title as he is.

You tuck your head into his neck, nuzzling at the warm spot you love so much. "She loves you so much and so do I. You're the best thing that could have ever happened to us, Lando Norris."

Lando chuckles. "I think it's the opposite way around, my love. You two are the best thing that could have ever happened to me."

"DAAAAAAD" From the end of the hall, Stella's little voice calls out and you both can't help the laugh that pulls you apart. "I'm waaaaaaiting!!! Stop kissing Momma and come read to me!" She demands.

"The Princess awaits." Lando mutters before giving you one last peck on the cheek and turning away to walk down the hall towards Stella's room.

Over an hour later and you're 2 glasses of wine deeper than you were when Lando left you, still sitting alone on the couch. You're beginning to think he's fallen asleep putting Stella to bed only because you've done the same thing countless amounts of times over the years when you hear the door to her room whisper open.

"You were in there a long time." You murmur as Lando sits down on the couch before he pulls you into his lap. You set the wine glass down on the side table next to you so you can wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

"Stella and I had some things to discuss." He says lightly.

Lando's body relaxes as he tucks his head into your neck. If there's one thing you adore about your boyfriend you'll adore until the ends of time it's how affectionate he is. He's always touching you when you're near and he never gives half-hearted hugs, they're something he pours his full body into. The same goes with cuddling, it's never halfway with Lando when it comes to physical affection and you simply cannot ever get enough.

"Oh?" You laugh, grinning at him. "And what are you two plotting now?"

Lando shifts, glancing away as if he's nervous to answer your question. "Stella calling me dad just had me thinking about things..."

You lift an eyebrow. "Things?"

"Yeah" Lando nods. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer into his chest. "I just got to thinking and maybe it’s time we make things official."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion has you pulling away from him so you can look at him. There's a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and you have to resist the urge to kiss him, despite the fact that you are fully lost as to what he's talking about. "You’ve been calling me your girlfriend for months now?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I mean official official. With this." Lando lifts his hips off the couch and pulls out a black velvet box from his pocket. For the second time that night, your heart stalls in your chest, world tilting a bit on its axis.

"Lan." You whisper before sucking in a breath as he opens the top of the ring box. Nestled in the black velvet sits the most gorgeous ring you'd ever laid eyes on. It's simple and perfect and something you would have picked out on your own had you been let loose in a jewelry store.

"Marry me, baby." Lando's voice is thick, anxiety and nerves evident in every syllable that comes out of his mouth. "I never want to go back to a world where you and Stella aren't in my life. Stella sees me as her dad, I hope you can see me as your husband and father of the rest of our babies one day. I love you so much l. Spend the rest of your life with me?

It's a wonder the sound of your heart clattering against your ribcage doesn't wake Stella up it's so loud. Blood rushes past your ears so loudly, the sounds of the house are muffled for a moment and all you can do is stare at Lando. He doesn't move, a look of anxiety and love and hundreds of other emotions sitting so plainly on his face you can barely form a thought.

"Of course. Oh my god. Of course." Your right hand finds his cheek and you frame his face with your hand as he takes your left hand before slipping the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

"Yeah?" A wash of relief crashes over Lando because for a moment he thought you were about to reject him.

When he had finished reading a chapter of Stella's book to her, he had as casually as he could brought up the idea of them being a family for real next year. Stella had been a bit confused, asking him if the weren't already a real family but Lando had quickly explained he meant he wanted to marry you but only if Stella thought that was a good idea because she was part of their family too and what she thought mattered to him just as much as what you thought.

You nod, laughing through your tears before crashing your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Yeah." You mutter against his mouth.

"I was going to do this tomorrow morning" Lando pulls away, glancing down at your hand that's still captured between his. "But it just felt right tonight. Stella was so excited, she started asking what kind of dress she’d get to wear at the wedding."

"Oh Lando." You coo before you allow him to lay you down on the couch, kissing you as he goes.

yourusername (private) posted

123 likes liked by BFFSarah, CarlosSainz, yourdad, and others yourusername mrs. norris has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? 😘 BFFSarah OH. MY. GOD. I'm sobbing. Bestie. I love you. I love him. I love Stella. I'm so happy for you!!! >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️ thank you babes >>>BFFSarah sorry, back again to tell you holy SHIT that ring!! @/landonorris you did good!! >>>landonorris why thank you! ☺️

landonorris posted

1,098,874 likes liked by yourusername, mclaren, zakbrownceo, and others landonorris santa can't compete with my present this year zakbrownceo congratulations to both of you!!! we'll have to throw a little party when you're back in the new year! >>>yourusername thanks zak!! you are too good to us! user009 the gold digger got what she wanted...how long til she's knocked up with baby number 2? gotta get that bag somehow... >>>user221 seriously. bro fell for the oldest trick in the book. fucking gross. >>>user223 hey so this is a fucking WILD thing to say about someone you don't even know so publicly. JESUS. user928 OH MY GOD THEY'RE ENGAGED user230 we're going to get dad lando content FOREVER >>>user929 the way i live for stella/lando content and now we get even MORE??? Yes please!!!

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[hoshifighting]

subby mingyu getting handjob from reader while hes tied up to the bed, she promises to make him cum but when he’s close she moves her hand away and starts fingering herself. pure torture 🥰

edging sub!mingyu

WARNINGS: smut, edging, masturbation [f. & m.], dom!reader x sub!mingyu.

mingyu looks up at you with those big, dumb, puppy-dog eyes, his wrists tugging at the restraints like he forgot you tied him up in the first place. “please ma'am,” he whines, chest heaving, sweat already glistening on his neck. “ma'am, you said—”

you cut him off with a lazy smirk, your fingers wrapping back around his cock, the tip flushed and leaking like it’s begging for you to make it cum and spurt all over. “yeah, yeah, i said i’d let you cum,” you tease, your grip just firm enough to make him gasp, “but when did i ever say when?”

his head falls back onto the pillow with a pathetic groan, and you swear you can feel the bedframe shudder with how hard he’s pulling against the ties. “ma'am you’re so mean..!”

you pump him slow, so slow it’s borderline cruel, and his thighs twitch like he’s gonna lose his mind. his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, brows furrowed like he’s fighting not to explode too soon. but mingyu’s always been a lightweight when it comes to you, and the way his cock jerks in your hand tells you he’s so close.

you wait until his breathing gets erratic, his hips stuttering, his whole body tightening like a rubber band about to snap... and then?

you pull your hand away.

“wha—wait, no! what the hell?!” mingyu chokes out, his voice cracking, his head snapping up to look at you. his eyes are wild, his cock twitching helplessly, and you almost laugh at the mere betrayal on his face.

“aww,” you pout, not even trying to hide the mockery in your tone. “poor baby.” and then, just to drive the point home, you slide your hand down between your own thighs, your fingers disappearing where you know he wants to be.

“no, no, no—” he starts, but the word cuts off with a strangled groan when you start fingering yourself right in front of him. the wet, filthy sounds fill the room, and mingyu’s eyes are locked on your hand, his cock twitching like it’s physically pained by the sight.

“this is your fault,” you say, your voice breathy. “if you weren’t so greedy, maybe i’d let you finish.” you drag your fingers out, glistening with slick, and hold them up for him to see. “guess i’m having all the fun.”

mingyu thrashes against the restraints, whining, “please, i’ll be good, i’ll do anything—”

“anything?” you raise an eyebrow, and his nod is so desperate it’s almost funny, his eyes big, and his eyebrow knit together. “hmm. maybe next time,” you hum, slipping your fingers back inside yourself with a soft moan.

mingyu groans like he’s in actual agony, his cock leaking against his stomach, his hips twitching into the air while he’s still chasing a release that’s never coming.

[greengoblinswifey]

Power Play—Lee Myung-Gi/Player 333 x Fem!Reader

summary— Despite your initial disdain, the connection between you and player 333 deepen with you taking control.

warnings— slight enemies to lovers, switch!myung-gi, fingering, oral(f!receving), praise kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— He is so hot, fuck meeeee!

Every time you caught Myung-gi’s gaze, your stomach twisted in annoyance and something else you didn’t want to name. He had been staring at you again today, right after being pushed around by Thanos and his crew. You clenched your fists, hating the way he let them treat him like shit, and even more so, hating how his eyes always seemed to find you.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” you hissed, your voice sharp enough to cut through the noise of the room.

“Nothing,” he said. “Can’t look at a pretty girl?” He straightened slightly, brushing dirt from his sleeve with a calmness that only irritated you further.

“You know,” you said coldly, “you’re the reason my brother’s in debt. He’d be here if I wasn’t such a kind sister willing to risk her life to win this money for him. He’s expecting a baby.”

At the mention of a baby, Myung-gi’s gaze flickered briefly to Jun-hee, who sat nearby with a hand on her stomach. A muscle in your jaw tightened, and you hated how his eyes lingered on her just a moment too long.

“Baby, huh?” he said, his voice low.

You didn’t respond, turning on your heel before the conversation could dig under your skin any further. Your chest tightened with something ugly and unfamiliar, jealousy, maybe? You refused to name it.

That night, the room was restless. People shifted in their bunks, some snoring, others mumbling in their sleep. But you couldn’t sleep. Neither could Myung-gi.

You didn’t notice him approach until he crouched beside you, his voice a quiet murmur. “You’re really fucking pretty, you know that?”

Your breath caught. You turned your head, and there he was, his face inches from yours, his dark eyes gleaming. You should have pushed him away, told him to leave you alone. But instead, you whispered, “Do something about it.”

He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed against yours, and you couldn’t help the way you melted into him. His hands cupped your face as his lips moved with a precision that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

You lay flat on the bed and his fingers found the edge of your pants, tugging them down with a careful urgency. You shivered as his hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers finding your pussy with an ease that made you throb.

“God,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky. “So wet for me.”

You let out a shaky gasp, your hands clutching his shoulders as his fingers worked vigorously inside your wetness, each movement teasing. “You’re doing so good,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just cum for me.”

His words tipped you over the edge, and you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the moan that spilled from your lips. Your body trembled as you came undone, and he didn’t stop his gentle praise, his thrusts softening but never leaving you.

As your high faded, he pulled back to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours. “There,” he said softly. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to find some semblance of control, but the small smirk tugging at his lips made it impossible. You shoved him lightly, muttering under your breath, “Shut up.”

But the truth was, you didn’t want him to stop.

“Can I taste you?” he asked, his voice low, the hunger in his tone readable.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unfazed, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Whatever,” you said casually, then pointed a finger at him. “But don’t expect me to suck your dick or anything.”

“Noted,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again. His lips moved slowly this time, taking their time as he hovered over you. You shivered as his lips left your mouth and began a slow descent. He pressed kisses to your neck, your collarbone, and lower still, his hands sliding up your thighs to part them as he made his way down.

When he reached the place where his fingers had been earlier, he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured. Then, without waiting for a response, he dipped his head.

The first touch of his mouth was soft, exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way. His tongue was relentless, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, holding your legs open as his tongue moved with precision and hunger.

“God,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him moan against you. The vibration sent a shockwave through your body, and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out. “You’re s-so good at this,” you said, your voice trembling.

He hummed in response, his tongue never faltering. It was like he was determined to draw every last bit of pleasure from you, and the way he ate you out had your mind spinning.

You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but it became impossible as the pleasure inside you built to a breaking point. “Myung-gi,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against his mouth.

“Fucking cum for me,” he murmured between lapping, “come on, pretty girl. I want to feel you squirt on my mouth.”

The words sent you over the edge, and with a cry you couldn’t quite muffle, you squirted. Your body trembled violently as waves of pleasure rolled through you, and you felt the undeniable splash as you soaked his mouth.

He didn’t stop, didn’t pull away, his tongue continuing to coax every last drop from your body until you were completely spent. When he finally lifted his head, his lips and chin glistened, but the satisfied smirk on his face said it all.

“Guess you enjoyed that,” he said, his voice teasing but filled with pride.

“Shut up,” you muttered, though the small smile tugging at your lips told it all.

He laughed softly, crawling back up to kiss you, and the taste of yourself on his lips sent a shiver through you. “Whatever you say,” he said, brushing a strand of your curls from your face.

As you shifted slightly, you felt his hardness pressing against your thigh, and a need you couldn’t ignore surged through your pussy. “Hey,” you said softly but firmly, nudging him, “On your back.”

His brows raised slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. Myung-gi obeyed, lying back against the thin bedding, his breathing uneven. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and burning with lust.

You reached down, pulling his hard cock free, and his sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through you. Slowly, you positioned your leaking pussy over him. As you sank down, you hissed softly, feeling the stretch as you adjusted to his size. His hands instinctively gripped your hips, his jaw clenching as he tried to stay still for you.

“You good?” he asked, his voice strained, his breathing labored.

“Yeah,” you murmured, taking a moment to adjust before you began to move.

You started slowly, lifting yourself before settling back down, testing the waters. But as you found a rhythm, your confidence grew, and you leaned into it, bouncing on him like you owned him, because, in that moment, you did.

His head tipped back, and a moan escaped his lips. “Oh, God,” he muttered, his voice breaking as he squirmed beneath you. “You’re, God, you’re amazing.”

You smirked, gripping his shoulders for balance as you bounced faster. The sounds of his stuttering breaths and soft moans filled the quiet space, and you could see the way his jaw had gone slack, his mouth wide open in awe and pleasure.

“I’m gonna—” he tried to say, but his words dissolved into a stammering mess. “I’m gonna—”

You leaned down, wrapping one hand around his throat firmly. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours in shock and a hint of thrill.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your voice commanding as you began to grind on his cock.

His response was a strangled moan as his body arched beneath you. You pressed your other hand over his mouth, silencing his cries as his entire body began to tremble.

“Now,” you murmured. “Be a good boy and cum inside me.”

The words made him come undone, and you felt him cum as a wave of pleasure hit you simultaneously. Your body shook on top of him as you both came together, your intense orgasms leaving you breathless.

You slowly removed your hand from his mouth, and he gasped for air, his chest heaving. His eyes were wide, his face flushed, but a dazed smile tugged at his lips.

“Wow,” he said after a moment, his voice hoarse. “I love when a woman takes control.”

You smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “Good,” you replied, sliding off of him carefully and lying beside him.

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as the two of you basked in the aftermath, the weird tension finally giving way to a strange sense of peace?

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Monaco Experience | LN4

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando, newly in a relationship, and Lando finally invites Y/N to Monaco to stay at his apartment.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.9k

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The first thing Y/n noticed as she stirred awake was the warmth. There was a steady, comforting heat radiating against her back, and something heavy draped over her waist. It took her foggy brain a moment to piece together where she was—and who she was with. Her eyes fluttered open, squinting against the soft morning light filtering through the blinds. She shifted slightly, only to feel the arm around her tighten ever so slightly, pulling her closer.

Lando.

Her heart skipped a beat as the memories of last night came flooding back. The teasing, the flirtation, the way his lips had brushed against her hair before they both drifted off. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep in his arms, but now that she was here, she couldn’t bring herself to move. His chest rose and fell steadily behind her, his breath warm against the back of her neck. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her, his body fitting perfectly against hers like they were made to be this close.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her mouth. This is dangerous, she thought. Dangerous because she could get used to this far too easily. Dangerous because it felt so right, even though she’d spent so long convincing herself it wasn’t.

Carefully, she turned her head just enough to glance over her shoulder. Lando was still asleep, his face relaxed, his dark lashes fanning out against his cheeks. He looked softer like this, younger, without the usual smirk or playful glint in his eyes. She studied the curve of his jaw, the faint stubble shadowing his skin, and felt a strange ache in her chest. How does he manage to look this good even when he’s sleeping?

As if sensing her gaze, Lando stirred, his arm tightening around her again as he let out a low, sleepy murmur. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

Y/n froze for a moment, then quickly turned her face back to the pillow, hoping he wouldn’t notice how closely she’d been watching him. “Morning,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was a pause, and then she felt him shift behind her, his hand sliding up her side until it rested just below her ribs. His palm was warm against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. “Sleep well?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was something else there—something deeper, more intimate.

She nodded, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Yeah. You?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in ages,” he admitted, his lips brushing against the back of her neck as he spoke. She sucked in a sharp breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Was he doing that on purpose? Or was it just an accident?

Either way, it was driving her crazy.

“You know,” she started, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to keep it steady, “you don’t have to stay. If you need to go… or whatever.”

Lando chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through her body. “Are you trying to kick me out already?”

“No!” she said quickly, then winced at how desperate she sounded. “I just mean… I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. I know you’re busy, and—”

“Y/n,” he interrupted gently, his hand moving to her hip and turning her to face him. She blinked up at him, her breath catching as their eyes met. His gaze was soft, almost tender, and it made her stomach flip. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Trust me.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. Trust him. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She wanted to trust him, more than anything, but letting someone in—letting herself be vulnerable—was terrifying. And yet, lying here in his arms, feeling the way he looked at her… it was getting harder and harder to keep those walls up.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible.

He smiled, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good.” He leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Instead, she found herself tilting her head up, her lips parting slightly in anticipation.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if they were both testing the waters. But then his hand slid into her hair, holding her gently as he deepened the kiss, and any thoughts of hesitation evaporated. She melted into him, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed her—like she was the only thing that mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together. “Wow,” she breathed, her voice shaky.

Lando grinned, his nose brushing against hers. “Wow indeed.”

She laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep inside her. “You’re such a dork.”

“Hey, I’m your dork,” he shot back, his tone teasing, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made her heart skip another beat.

“Is that so?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He nodded, his expression softening. “If you’ll have me.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, searching his face for any sign that he might be joking. But all she saw was sincerity—and something else, something that made her chest ache in the best possible way. Slowly, she reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I think I could live with that,” she said quietly.

His smile widened, and then he was kissing her again, his hands roaming over her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She responded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. It was overwhelming, the way he made her feel—like she was falling and flying all at once.

Eventually, they broke apart, both of them panting, their foreheads resting together once more. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Lando murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She felt her face flush, her heart swelling at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood before it got too serious.

He chuckled, pressing another quick kiss to her lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Good to know,” she replied, grinning up at him.

But before either of them could say anything else, his phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, shattering the peaceful moment. Lando groaned, reluctantly pulling away to grab it. “Sorry,” he muttered, glancing at the screen. “It’s work. I have to take this.”

She nodded, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in her chest. “Of course. Go ahead.”

He gave her an apologetic smile before answering the call, his voice dropping into a more professional tone. Y/n took the opportunity to slip out of bed, grabbing one of his discarded shirts from the floor and pulling it on. It hung loosely on her frame, the fabric still carrying his scent, and she couldn’t help but smile as she padded toward the kitchen.

As she started making coffee, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hands had felt on her skin, the way his lips had tasted. What are you doing, Y/n? she scolded herself silently. You’re supposed to be keeping your distance.

But deep down, she knew it was too late for that. She was already in too deep, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Lando appeared a few minutes later, his phone tucked back into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” he said, leaning against the counter as he watched her pour two cups of coffee. “Duty calls.”

She handed him a mug, their fingers brushing briefly as he took it. “No worries. I get it.”

He sipped his coffee, his eyes never leaving hers. “So… what now?”

She hesitated, her grip tightening on her own mug. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He set his cup down and stepped closer, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “Where do we go from here?”

Her breath caught, her mind racing as she tried to come up with an answer. But before she could respond, he was kissing her again, slow and sweet, and all rational thought went out the window.

When they finally pulled apart, she looked up at him, her heart pounding. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “But… I want to figure it out. With you.”

His smile was brighter than the morning sun streaming through her windows. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

--

Lando’s fingers traced lazily along the rim of his coffee cup, his eyes never leaving Y/n’s as they sat across from each other in her cozy London flat. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on her face, and he couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly beautiful she looked, even with her hair slightly tousled from sleep.

“So,” he began, his voice casual but laced with something more—something that made her stomach flutter. “I’ve been thinking… you’ve never been to Monaco, have you?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “Are you asking me to come visit you, Lando?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his confidence radiating through every movement. “Maybe. What if I told you I wanted to show you around? Give you the full Monaco experience. You know, the beaches, the yachts, the glamour…” He paused, his grin turning mischievous. “And, of course, me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

“But you like it,” he countered, his tone dropping slightly, that teasing edge softening into something warmer, more sincere.

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her coffee, trying to hide the way his words made her heart race. “I don’t know… I mean, it’s a big trip. And we’ve only just—” She hesitated, gesturing vaguely between them. “This is still so new.”

Lando reached across the table, his hand covering hers, his touch firm yet gentle. “New doesn’t mean it’s not worth exploring. Come on, Y/n. Let me show you my world. Just for a weekend. What do you say?”

There was something about the way he said it—the earnestness in his voice, the way his thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles—that melted her reservations. She bit her lip, looking up at him, and found herself nodding before she could overthink it.

“Okay,” she said softly. “A weekend in Monaco.”

His face lit up, and he squeezed her hand. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

---

Three days later, Y/n stepped off the plane onto the tarmac of Nice Côte d’Azur Airport, squinting against the bright Mediterranean sun. She hadn’t even made it to baggage claim when she saw him, leaning casually against a sleek black car, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the F1 driver he was.

“Took you long enough,” he teased as she approached, pulling her into a tight hug. His scent—clean and masculine, with a hint of cologne—flooded her senses, and she felt a rush of warmth spread through her chest.

“Traffic on the M25,” she quipped, pulling back to look at him. “You wouldn’t believe how bad it gets.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” He took her suitcase from her, loading it into the trunk before opening the passenger door with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips as she slid into the seat. The car smelled like him, and the leather was cool against her skin. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. This was Monaco. And she was spending it with him.

The drive along the coast was breathtaking, the sea glistening under the afternoon sun. They chatted easily, the conversation flowing as naturally as it always did between them. But there was something different this time—a tension that simmered beneath the surface, unspoken yet palpable.

When they finally pulled up to his apartment building, Y/n couldn’t help but gasp. It was everything she imagined—modern, luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering stunning views of the harbor.

“Welcome to Casa de Norris,” he said with a grin, grabbing her suitcase and leading her inside.

---

That evening, after a leisurely dinner at a seaside restaurant, they returned to his apartment. The city lights twinkled outside, and the air was warm, carrying the faint scent of salt and flowers. Lando poured them each a glass of wine, and they settled on the couch, the soft hum of music playing in the background.

Y/n sipped her wine, feeling the alcohol warming her veins. She glanced over at Lando, who was watching her with that same intense gaze that always seemed to see straight through her.

“What?” she asked, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

He shook his head slowly, setting his glass down. “Nothing. I just… I like seeing you like this. Relaxed. Happy.”

Her cheeks heated, and she looked down at her wine glass. “It’s hard not to be happy here. It’s… magical.”

“It’s not the place,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “It’s you.”

Her breath caught, and she looked up at him, her heart pounding. There was something in his eyes—something serious, vulnerable—that made her stomach flip.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Tell me what you want, Y/n,” he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek. “Right now. Tell me.”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. But then, in that moment, all she could think about was how much she wanted him—how much she’d always wanted him.

“You,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I want you.”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, filled with pent-up longing. She melted into him, her hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that left her dizzy.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathing heavily, she looked up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

She nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. “Yes.”

Without another word, he stood, pulling her to her feet and leading her toward the bedroom. The room was bathed in soft light, the bed impossibly large and inviting. He turned to her, his hands coming to rest on her waist as he kissed her again, tasting of wine and need.

Slowly, deliberately, he undressed her, his movements careful, reverent, as though she were something precious. When he pulled back to look at her, his gaze dark and hungry, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip. “So fucking beautiful.”

She reached for him then, her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until it fell open, revealing the toned planes of his chest. Her fingers splayed over his skin, and he groaned, low and deep, pressing her back onto the bed.

As he kissed his way down her body, his lips trailing fire, she arched into him, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Every touch, every caress, was electric, lighting her up from the inside out. His lips were everywhere, leaving a trail of fire across her skin. He started at her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear, eliciting a soft moan from her. His hands roamed over her body, cupping her breasts as his mouth moved lower, teasing her nipples with his tongue until she was arching into him, desperate for more.

“Lando,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to worship her body with his mouth. He didn’t stop, his kisses growing hungrier as he moved down her stomach, his hands gripping her hips to keep her still. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, his breath hot against her most sensitive skin.

“You taste so good,” he murmured before his tongue flicked out, teasing her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he worked her with his mouth, his fingers slipping inside her to match the rhythm of his tongue. The pleasure built quickly, coiling tight in her belly, and she was on the edge, so close to shattering—

But then he stopped, pulling away just as she was about to fall over the edge. She whimpered, her body trembling with need, but he didn’t give her time to protest. In one swift motion, he positioned himself between her legs, his cock pressing against her entrance.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. Her eyes met his, dark and intense, as he thrust into her in one smooth motion, filling her completely. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, each stroke driving her closer to the edge again.

He kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans as their bodies moved together, the tension building until it was unbearable. And when she finally came, her body convulsing around him, he followed her over the edge, his release spilling deep inside her. They clung to each other, their breaths mingling, as the world outside faded away.

[phefics]

𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮) contains: afab!reader, edging, fingering, oral, polyamory, threesomes

“ellen can make me finish much faster than you can,” you tell thomas, mischief twisted in your smile, having successfully broken the comfortable silence in the room.

thomas looks up from his book and narrows his eyes, clearly taking your words as a challenge. “is that so?” he asks.

you nod, playing into it. “she knows my body so well. it comes naturally to her, i suppose, as we share the same anatomy.”

thomas sets his book down on the table and stands.

you shoot a glace over to ellen, who is hiding a smile between her embroidery. you meet her gaze and grin.

thomas stalks over to where you are sitting on the couch, and gets on his knees in front of you. “how long would you say it takes ellen to please you?”

you hum. “i believe she has done it in eight or so minutes.”

there is a desperate wanting in his eyes and he lifts your skirts, like a starving man who has finally acquired a feast. he turns his attention to ellen. “would you say that that is accurate?”

she carefully sets down her embroidery, watching you two with excitement in her eyes. “i would say so.”

thomas pushes your knees apart with his hands. “if i can finish you off in eight minutes or less, perhaps you will learn to watch your mouth."

you doubt that you will ever learn to watch your mouth, but you smile and nod anyway. thomas also knows it's an empty promise, but that is a part of the game that the three of you play: an unconventional arrangement, where no rules are ever set in stone.

thomas brings his face between your thighs, his tongue licking clumsily at your pussy. you breathe out a sigh, looking over to ellen, who is watching the clock, her eyes occasionally darting over to watch you.

as thomas begins to find a rhythm, begins to locate the right spots to focus on, you moan, one hand moving to tangle into his hair, while the other reaches out and grips ellen's hand. she squeezes it, still watching the clock.

"six more minutes," she says softly. "is he doing well?"

truthfully, he is, but you know that thomas likes to be pushed, challenged. "not as well as you," you answer.

thomas practically growls from between your legs, the vibration of his lips a new sensation that sends your hips bucking up into his mouth. his hands roughly grab at one of your thighs, pushing it further to the side, while he other hand moves for your entrance, easily pushing a finger inside of your wet, wanting cunt.

you moan again, grabbing his hair harder. he is always so eager to please, so ready to rise to the occasion. he loves it when you tease him like this, testing his patience. he doesn't just want to be good for you, for ellen: he wants to be perfect.

ellen strokes her nails over the palm of your hand, up your wrist, a gentle and subtle way of including herself in the moment, as more than just the one keeping time. you welcome her touch, drink it in greedily, wanting to pull her close and have her kiss your throat, tear open your corset and touch you with a rougher hand, but in this little game, she would be interfering with thomas' attempts to prove himself.

perhaps after thomas has his way with you, ellen will join in on the fun. as if she can read your mind (and sometimes you think that she can), ellen says, "two more minutes."

thomas slips another finger inside of you, curling inside of you in the most incredible way, as his tongue still works at the most sensitive part of you, and you feel the waves building up inside of you, toes curling inside your shoes, your fingers tightening their grip on his curls.

"i'm close," you say. "oh, thomas, i'm close, yes—"

"time's up," ellen says, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

just as you feel you're about to tip over the edge, thomas stops, and you whimper, your hole clenching around nothing as he pulls his fingers out. "wait, thomas, please—"

"oh, you wish for me to continue?" he asks, his lips shining with your wetness. "i assumed that if i could not perform to your standards, you wouldn't be interested in my attempts."

"i want you to finish me," you say, breathless. "you feel so good, my love, please."

thomas and ellen exchange looks, and before you can beg any further, ellen is at your neck, kissing your skin, her hands ravaging your waist and chest lovingly, and thomas is back between your legs.

"here is one thing that ellen cannot give you," he says, unbuttoning his pants and revealing his hard cock.

"yes, please, i want to feel you inside me," you plead.

he slips inside of you, arms wrapping around your legs to hold them apart as he thrusts into your warmth.

ellen kisses your lips sweetly, stroking your hair. "you are so beautiful. let us see you come undone," she whispers.

after he brought you so close to the edge and back down again, thomas is quick to bring you back to that precipice of pleasure, and you finish with a loud cry, your face buried in ellen's hair, breathing in her scent of lilacs.

if this is what you get for speaking so boldly, you will certainly not be watching your mouth any time soon.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Boyfriends

Based around the song Boyfriends by Harry Styles

Word count: 9,985

Content warning: fighting, cursing, mentions of alcohol and a lot of angst.

A little over two years ago

The concert was electric, every beat of the music reverberating through Y/N’s chest as she moved through the press pit with her camera. She’d already taken dozens of photos—Harry under the spotlight, interacting with the crowd, lost in the music but she knew her best work came from capturing the moments no one else saw.

As the final notes of the encore rang out, she noticed the security team starting to guide photographers toward the exit. Her mind raced. She couldn’t leave yet. Not when there was a chance to get the kind of candid shots that would set her portfolio apart from the rest of her competitors. 

She slung her camera strap tighter over her shoulder and approached one of the large security guards standing near the backstage entrance.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice steady despite her pounding heart. “I know I’m supposed to head out, but I’d really love to capture some candid shots of Harry as he comes off stage. It would tell such a story.”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Not sure that’s allowed. Press isn’t usually permitted back there. Private.”

“Please,” Y/N insisted, her tone earnest. “I promise I won’t get in the way. Just a few quick shots, and I’ll be out of there. I promise.”

The guard hesitated, studying her for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. But if anyone asks, I didn’t see you.”

“Thank you!” she said, already slipping past him toward the backstage area.

She hurried down the dimly lit hallway, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished floor. The muffled roar of the crowd faded behind her, replaced by the sounds of crew members breaking down equipment and distant chatter. This is what she lived for. 

Just as she rounded a corner, the door to the stage swung open, and there he was towel slung over one shoulder, his face glowing with sweat and adrenaline. Y/N froze, momentarily stunned.

Harry’s eyes landed on her, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Well, aren’t you persistent? Must’ve made a pretty convincing case to the security team.” he said, his voice warm and teasing.

Y/N blinked, her grip tightening on her camera. “I just… I wanted to get some shots of you coming off stage. It’s where the magic happens, right?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his damp curls. “Magic, huh? I don’t know about that. Mostly sweat and bad jokes back here.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” she quipped, raising her camera slightly as if to ask for permission.

Harry tilted his head, his smile softening. “Go ahead, photographer. Show me what you’ve got.”

Y/N didn’t waste another second. 

A few weeks later 

The small Italian restaurant was tucked into a quiet corner of New York, dimly lit with candles flickering on each table. It was the kind of place where conversations were hushed, and the aroma of garlic and fresh bread filled the air. Y/N sat across from Harry, her hands wrapped around a glass of red wine, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest as he leaned back, effortlessly relaxed.

“So,” Harry began, a faint smirk on his lips. “I have to ask, do you always beg security guards to let you backstage, or was that just a one-time thing?”

Y/N laughed, her cheeks warming. “I wasn’t begging. I was persuading. There’s a difference and hey! It worked.”

“Right,” he said, drawing out the word playfully. “Well, whatever it was I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so determined to take pictures of me covered in sweat.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement. “I was trying to capture the moment—the real you. Not the polished, on-stage version.”

Harry tilted his head, his gaze softening. “That’s what caught my attention, you know. I mean, I’ve had photographers at shows before, but you…  had this fire. Like you weren’t just there for the job, you cared about it.”

Y/N’s fingers traced the stem of her wine glass as she looked at him, surprised. “You noticed all that?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You were practically sprinting down the hallway to get the shot. I remember thinking, ‘Who is this girl, and why is she running so fast?’”

She laughed, trying to play it cool. “It’s my job. I just wanted to do it well.”

Harry’s smile widened. “Well, you did. The way you didn’t hesitate to push for what you wanted. Most people don’t do that around me. I liked it.”

 Y/N raised an eyebrow, her confidence returning. “And what about you? Most people would’ve just walked past me, but you stopped. Why?”

He took a sip of his wine, considering her question. “Maybe I liked the challenge. You didn’t seem fazed by all the… ‘Harry Styles’ stuff. You were just yourself. It was refreshing.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, but she kept her tone light. “So, basically, you’re saying I charmed my way into your good graces?”

“Exactly,” Harry said with a grin. “And now, here we are. A photographer and her subject having pasta in a little New York restaurant. Life’s funny like that.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe,” he teased, his voice low. “But I’m glad you begged that security guard. Makes for a good story.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. 

Present day

The faint sound of an alarm broke the quiet of the early morning, its persistent buzz pulling Y/N from sleep. She groaned, rolling over and burying her face into the pillow, trying to block out the noise. At the foot of the bed, her chubby orange cat, Teddy, stretched lazily, his tail flicking in mild irritation at the disturbance.

The bed shifted slightly as Harry moved beside her. She peeked one eye open to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging on a pair of flare jeans. His hair was a tousled mess, and he was moving with the sluggishness of someone who hadn’t had enough coffee yet.

“Harry?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Where are you going?”

He glanced back at her, already reaching for a hoodie draped over the chair. “Studio,” he said simply, his tone casual.

Y/N sat up slightly, blinking at him in confusion. “The studio? But… we were supposed to go to the market today. Remember? We talked about it all week.”

Harry froze for a moment, his hand paused mid-reach for his phone on the nightstand. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, right. Sorry, love. Totally slipped my mind.”

She stared at him, the sting of his words sinking in. “You forgot?”

“It’s just been busy,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation—not at her, but at himself. “You could still go, though. Pick up a few things for us?” He gave her a small smile, as if that would smooth things over.

Y/N frowned, leaning back against the headboard. “So, you want me to go alone? After we planned this together?”

“It’s not that I want you to,” he replied, clearly sensing her frustration. “I just can’t get out of the session. It’s important.”

Her chest tightened, the hurt creeping in despite her best efforts to brush it off. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Lately, the studio seemed to take priority over everything else.

“Right,” she said quietly, her tone laced with disappointment. “I’ll go. Don’t worry about it.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer to her side of the bed. “Y/N, I’m not trying to upset you. I just need to get this done.”

She looked up at him, her expression guarded. “I know. I get it. You’re busy. It just… feels like you’re always too busy these days.”

His face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to think better of it, instead leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Y/N forced a small smile, watching as he grabbed his keys and slipped out of the room, the sound of the door clicking shut echoing in the quiet.

She let out a sigh, glancing at Teddy, who had barely stirred from his spot at the foot of the bed. “Looks like it’s just you and me today, buddy.”

Teddy let out a sleepy meow, as if in agreement, and Y/N pulled the covers closer, wondering how long she could keep pretending this didn’t bother her as much as it did.

After getting dressed and going solo to the market Y/N sat on the couch in their London apartment, absently scrolling through her phone. The soft hum of the city filtered through the windows, but inside, the space felt eerily quiet. Teddy, her ever-loyal orange cat, was curled up beside her, his rhythmic purring the only sound in the room.

For weeks now, it had been the same routine. Harry would wake up early, leaving the house before she’d even fully opened her eyes, and come home late, exhaustion etched across his features. He was always kind, always apologetic in his soft-spoken way, but the words “I’m sorry, love” were beginning to feel hollow.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She did. Harry was driven, passionate about his music, and that was one of the things she loved most about him. But lately, his determination felt more like a wall between them than something to admire.

She let her phone drop onto the coffee table and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. Every time she tried to bring it up—how distant he seemed, how much she missed him—she felt silly, selfish even. His work was important, and she didn’t want to be the needy girlfriend who couldn’t handle his busy schedule.

But it hurt.

It hurt to feel like she was always the second priority, to have their plans constantly pushed aside for another recording session, another photoshoot, another promotional event. It hurt to go to bed alone and wake up to an empty side of the bed, save for Teddy’s occasional company.

She ran her hands through her hair, letting out a slow breath.

Y/N didn’t need grand gestures or romantic getaways. She didn’t need a fancy dinner or expensive gifts. She just wanted Harry—the Harry who used to stay up late talking with her about anything and everything, the Harry who’d pull her into his arms for a kiss in the middle of the kitchen, the Harry who used to make her feel like the center of his world.

But now? Now it felt like she was living with a ghost of him, someone who passed through their apartment in a blur of schedules and commitments.

Teddy shifted beside her, his big green eyes blinking up at her as if sensing her mood. She scratched behind his ears, her lips tugging into a faint smile.

“I don’t know, Ted,” she said softly. “How do you tell someone you love them, but you’re starting to hate how they make you feel?”

The cat let out a small chirp in response, and she let out a half-hearted laugh.

Y/N shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before everything boiled over. She could only hold it in for so long. She did what any girl would do and called her best friend for a girls night. 

Y/N paced back and forth in the kitchen, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. Teddy watched her from his spot on the counter, his tail flicking lazily as if he could feel the tension radiating from her.

“Addy, are you busy tonight?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice steady but failing miserably.

“Not particularly,” Addy replied, the faint clinking of dishes in the background suggesting she was doing something mundane. “Why? What’s up?”

“I need to rant,” Y/N said, letting out a heavy sigh. “Like, properly rant. Maybe cry a little. You free for a sleepover? I’ll bring wine.”

Addy didn’t hesitate. “Of course, babe. Get over here. I’ll grab the blankets and make a snack spread. You know I never say no to wine and a vent session.”

Y/N felt a small smile tug at her lips, a flicker of relief breaking through her frustration. “You’re a lifesaver, Addy. Seriously.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Addy said, her tone warm. “Now hurry up. We’ve got wine to drink and whining to do.”

Y/N laughed lightly, though her chest still felt heavy. “Be there soon.”

She hung up the call and turned to Teddy, who was now licking his paw as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Alright, buddy, you’re in charge while I’m gone,” she said, grabbing his food bowl and refilling it. Teddy let out a small meow of approval, hopping down to inspect his meal.

Y/N moved quickly, tossing a few essentials into an overnight bag: her favorite pajamas, a toothbrush, her phone charger. She grabbed the bottle of wine she’d been saving and gave Teddy one last scratch behind the ears before locking the door behind her.

The short walk to Addy’s flat was brisk and refreshing, the cold London air biting against her cheeks. She tried to let the walk clear her head, but her thoughts kept circling back to Harry, to the way things had been lately, to how exhausted she felt.

By the time she reached Addy’s building and knocked on the door, she was ready to collapse. Addy flung the door open, already in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, her face lighting up when she saw Y/N.

“There she is!” Addy exclaimed, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “Come in, wine queen. We’ve got a couch, snacks, and a whole lot of ranting to do.”

Y/N laughed, the warmth of her best friend’s embrace melting away some of the weight she’d been carrying. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“Trust me, I do,” Addy said, ushering her inside. “Now, start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

As Y/N sank into the couch, wine glass in hand and Addy by her side, she felt a flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—she could figure this out. But for now, she was grateful to have someone who would listen without judgment. Someone who just got it.

The first glass of wine went down smoothly, maybe too smoothly. Y/N poured herself another before Addy even finished her first, and by the time they’d gotten halfway through the second bottle, the conversation had turned raw and unfiltered.

Y/N leaned back into the couch, her cheeks flushed—not just from the wine, but from the surge of emotions she’d been bottling up for weeks. She swirled the last bit of wine in her glass and sighed.

“I don’t even know why I’m so upset anymore,” she said, her voice tight. “It’s not like it’s new. Harry’s been… distant. Detached. Nonchalant, even. Like, I could’ve told him I was leaving tonight, and I swear he wouldn’t have noticed.”

Addy frowned, pulling her knees up onto the couch. “Are you serious? He didn’t even ask where you were going?”

Y/N shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Nope. He probably assumed I’d just be home when he got back—like always. That’s the thing, Addy. He doesn’t notice anything anymore. It’s like I’m… invisible to him.”

Addy’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Y/N, that’s not okay. You’re not a piece of furniture. You’re his girlfriend. He should be noticing you.”

Y/N stared at her glass, her voice quieter now. “We barely even talk anymore. It’s all ‘Sorry, love, the studio ran late,’ or ‘Can you handle this for me?’ It’s like I’m his roommate, not his partner. And the worst part?” She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “We haven’t been… close. Like, at all. No hugs, no kisses, no… sex. It’s been weeks, Addy. I don’t even know if he wants me anymore.”

Addy’s mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was,” Y/N muttered, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “And I’ve tried, you know? I’ve dropped hints, I’ve made plans, I’ve even dressed up when he’s home just to get his attention. But it’s like he’s so caught up in everything else that I’m… I’m not even on his radar.”

Addy put her wine glass down and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “Hey, listen to me. This isn’t about you. Harry is clearly drowning in his own world, and he’s taking you for granted. That’s on him—it’s just what boys do.”

Y/N leaned her head against Addy’s shoulder, her voice breaking. “I just miss him. I miss us. The way we used to be, you know? When we’d spend hours talking, when he’d grab me and kiss me just because. I miss feeling like I mattered to him.”

Addy tightened her hold, her voice firm. “You do matter, Y/N. He’s just too wrapped up in himself to see it right now. But you deserve better than this—better than feeling like you’re waiting around for scraps of his time.”

Y/N sniffed, her tears finally spilling over. “I don’t even know how to talk to him about it without feeling like I’m nagging. What if he’s just… over it? Over me?”

Addy pulled back slightly, looking Y/N in the eyes. “If he’s over it, then he’s a bloody idiot. But you need to talk to him, Y/N. You can’t keep holding all this in. It’s going to eat you alive.”

Y/N nodded slowly, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I just… I’m scared, Addy. What if I say something, and it doesn’t change anything?”

“Then you’ll know where you stand,” Addy said softly. “And you can decide what’s next. But no matter what, I’ve got you. Always.”

Y/N managed a small smile, her heart aching but lighter knowing she didn’t have to face this alone. For tonight, though, she let herself sink into the comfort of her best friend and another glass of wine, the weight of her worries just a little easier to bear.

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains in Addy’s living room, waking Y/N from a restless sleep. The pull-out couch wasn’t exactly luxurious, but after the wine and emotional exhaustion from the night before, she hadn’t cared.

She rubbed her eyes and reached for her phone on the coffee table, squinting at the screen. A notification from Harry stared back at her, and her heart sank as she opened the text.

Harry:

Would’ve been nice if you told me you weren’t coming home last night.

The words were short and clipped, and Y/N could almost feel the passive-aggressive undertone seeping through. She stared at the screen for a moment, a mix of guilt and frustration bubbling up in her chest.

“Seriously?” she muttered under her breath, sitting up and running a hand through her hair.

Teddy’s bowl had been full, the apartment was clean, and it wasn’t like she had disappeared without a trace. But still, Harry managed to make her feel like she was the one in the wrong.

She typed out a response, her fingers hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

Y/N:

I stayed at Addy’s. I forgot to let you know. Sorry.

She tossed the phone onto the cushion beside her and let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch. Her chest tightened with the familiar ache that had been building for weeks.

“Everything okay?” Addy’s voice came from the kitchen. She appeared moments later, a mug of coffee in hand, still in her pajamas.

Y/N looked up and gave her a weak smile. “Harry texted me. He’s annoyed I didn’t tell him I wasn’t coming home.”

Addy raised an eyebrow as she handed Y/N the coffee. “He’s annoyed? The same Harry who’s been barely speaking to you and blowing off plans left and right?”

Y/N shrugged, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. “Yeah, that Harry.”

Addy flopped onto the armchair across from her. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. He has no right to guilt-trip you after how he’s been acting. He sure knows how to get under your skin.”

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think he meant to guilt-trip me. It’s just… I don’t know, Addy. Everything feels so off between us. Even little things like this turn into a thing.”

“Because he’s not giving you what you need,” Addy said bluntly. “You wouldn’t feel this way if he was showing up for you. Instead, he’s putting all this effort into everything else and leaving you with scraps. It’s not fair, Y/N.”

Y/N bit her lip, staring down at the coffee in her hands. “I know it’s not fair. But I still love him, Addy. I just… don’t know how to fix this.”

Addy leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You shouldn’t have to fix this alone, babe. He’s your partner. He should be just as invested in making things work. If he’s not, that’s on him, not you.”

Y/N nodded, but the knot in her stomach didn’t ease. She glanced at her phone again, tempted to say more, but decided against it. Instead she got herself together and said goodbye to Addy before making the short trip back to her home. 

Y/N unlocked the door to her apartment, still groggy and in her pajamas, her head pounding from last night’s wine. She stepped inside and was greeted by Teddy, who meowed loudly as if scolding her for being gone.

“Morning, Teddy,” she muttered, bending down to scratch his head before kicking off her shoes.

When she looked up, she froze. Harry was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, his phone in his hand. It was rare to see him home at this hour, and for a moment, she was too surprised to say anything.

He glanced up at her, his expression unreadable. “Nice of you to finally come home,” he said, his voice calm but with a cutting edge. “I thought maybe we could’ve done something today, but you were gone and by the looks of it, hungover.”

Y/N blinked at him, her exhaustion giving way to irritation. “Are you serious right now?”

Harry leaned back into the couch, raising an eyebrow. “What? I’m just saying, it would’ve been nice to know where you were.”

Her frustration boiled over, the tension that had been building for weeks finally snapping. “Oh, you mean like all the times we made plans, and you bailed on me? Is that what you’re talking about, Harry? Because if we’re keeping track, you’ve canceled on me more times than I can count.”

Harry rolled his eyes, his tone dismissive. “Here we go again.”

“No, seriously,” Y/N said, her voice rising. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be constantly put second? To have you forget about us because you’re busy with your career? And then you have the nerve to act like I’m the one in the wrong because I stayed at Addy’s for one night?”

Harry set his phone down, looking at her with a mix of annoyance and exasperation. “I don’t have time for this right now. You’re blowing things out of proportion. I’m working hard and you’re acting selfish.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth falling open. “Selfish? Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been here, Harry. I picked up my life and moved here. To be with you. To be close to you. I am here waiting for you, supporting you, picking up the pieces of this relationship while you put me on the back burner. And now I’m selfish because I’m upset that you don’t seem to care anymore?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “I never said I didn’t care. But I can’t drop everything just to make you happy. I have obligations, Y/N. I thought you understood that.”

“I do understand,” she snapped, her voice trembling. “But what about your obligation to me? Or does that not matter anymore?”

The room fell silent, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. Harry looked at her, his expression softening just slightly, as if he hadn’t realized how deep the cracks had gotten.

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice quieter now. “I’m not asking you to drop everything, Harry. I’m asking you to show me that I matter to you. That we matter, even if it’s only for a few hours.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, the weight of her words settling over him. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t have a quick answer, and that silence spoke louder than anything he could’ve said.

With that, she turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving Harry sitting on the couch. 

Y/N scooped Teddy up on her way to the bedroom, the orange fluffball letting out a small chirp of protest before settling into her arms. She pressed her face into his fur, taking comfort in his warmth as she turned back to look at Harry, still sitting on the couch.

“Well,” she said bitterly, her voice carrying just enough to make her point, “at least Teddy will spend time with me.”

Harry didn’t respond, his face unreadable as she turned away and headed down the hallway. She pushed open the bedroom door, setting Teddy down gently on the bed. He immediately curled up in his usual spot, his tail flicking as Y/N climbed in beside him.

Pulling the blankets around her, she stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. The fight had drained her, but her mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything—Harry’s dismissive tone, the way he had rolled his eyes at her, the frustration and sadness that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her chest.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to think of something better, something good. Slowly, her thoughts drifted to the earlier days of their relationship, when everything felt effortless and magical.

Like the time Harry had surprised her with a trip to Disneyland Paris.

She smiled faintly at the memory, her heart aching with nostalgia. It had been just over a year into their relationship, and she’d mentioned in passing one night how she’d always dreamed of going but never had the chance. She hadn’t thought much of it—just another drowsy late-night conversation between them—but Harry had clearly been paying attention.

He’d woken her up early one morning, a mischievous grin on his face. “Pack a bag,” he’d said, barely able to contain his excitement. “We’re going on an adventure.”

She’d laughed, confused but thrilled as he refused to give her any details. It wasn’t until they were at the airport, with two tickets to Paris in his hand, that she realized what he had planned.

“You didn’t,” she had whispered, staring at him in disbelief.

“I did,” he’d replied, his grin widening. “What’s the point of dreaming if you don’t make it happen?”

The trip had been everything she’d hoped for and more. They’d spent the days running from ride to ride, indulging in too many churros, and taking pictures in front of the castle. He’d bought her a pair of Minnie Mouse ears, which she’d worn the entire time despite teasing him for wearing his matching Mickey ears.

And at night, under the glow of the fireworks, he’d wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like they were the only two people in the world.

It was one of the most thoughtful, romantic things anyone had ever done for her, and it had cemented her belief that Harry was someone special—someone who truly saw her.

Now, lying in bed, those memories felt like they belonged to a different time, a different version of them. She glanced down at Teddy, who had dozed off at her side, his soft purring filling the silence.

“How did we get here, Ted?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Teddy didn’t respond, of course, but his presence was steady, a small comfort in the midst of her swirling emotions.

She rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow to her chest as tears silently slipped down her cheeks. She missed the Harry from those days—the one who surprised her with trips, who laughed with her over burnt pancakes, who made her feel like the center of his world.

Y/N stirred slightly when she heard the quiet creak of the bedroom door opening. She kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady, even as she felt the bed shift under Harry’s weight. He laid down beside her, the mattress dipping slightly as he settled in.

The faint scent of alcohol hit her almost immediately, making her chest tighten. Her eyes opened just a fraction, though she remained on her side, facing away from him. Had he been drinking?

Her heart sank further. Of course, he had every right to do what he wanted—he was an adult, after all. And after the way she’d walked home hungover this morning, she didn’t exactly have the moral high ground to say anything about it.

But still.

The thought of him out, drinking alone or with people who weren’t her, only deepened the ache that had been gnawing at her all day. It wasn’t about the drinking itself—it was about the growing distance between them, the choices they both seemed to be making that pushed them further apart.

She lay there in silence, staring at the faint shadows dancing across the wall. Part of her wanted to roll over, to ask him where he’d been or why he smelled like tequila. But another part of her—the tired, frustrated, heartbroken part—couldn’t muster the energy for another confrontation.

Instead, she stayed still, her hand resting gently on Teddy’s fur as he purred softly in his sleep. She could feel Harry’s presence beside her, close enough to touch, yet it felt like there was an ocean between them.

After a moment, she heard him exhale deeply, the bed shifting slightly as he adjusted his position. She wondered if he was awake, if he was thinking about the fight they’d had earlier, if he even realized how much she missed him.

But no words came. The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding.

The next morning, Y/N forced herself out of bed despite the heaviness that still lingered from the night before. Teddy trailed behind her as she shuffled around the apartment, gathering her gear for the day’s photo shoots. She threw on a comfortable outfit, pulled her hair into a loose bun, and grabbed her camera bag, trying to shake off the lingering ache in her chest.

Photography had always been her escape. It didn’t matter if she was capturing sweaty concerts or snapping portraits of families; behind the lens, she felt purposeful. Grounded.

The day passed quickly as she moved between locations, her subjects ranging from a young couple celebrating an anniversary to a family of five with a rambunctious toddler. She smiled, laughed, and gave her all to each session, momentarily forgetting the tension waiting for her at home.

When the shoots were done, she wandered the streets of London, her camera still slung over her shoulder. The city was alive with people, the winter air crisp as she strolled past cafés and flower shops. She pretended to savor her independence, stopping to snap a few shots of the bustling streets, but the nagging loneliness in her chest was impossible to ignore.

By the time she returned home, the sun had set, and the apartment was dark and quiet. She dropped her bag by the door, kicking off her shoes as Teddy padded over to greet her.

“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, scooping him up for a quick cuddle. The silence in the apartment felt heavier than usual, and she sighed as she put him down and reached for her phone.

She typed out a quick text to Harry:

Y/N:

Hey, are you going to be home for dinner? I was thinking of ordering Chinese.

She stared at the screen for a moment, willing the typing bubble to appear. But it didn’t. After a few minutes, she gave up and placed the order anyway, opting for her usual dishes.

By the time the food arrived, Harry still hadn’t responded. She ate quietly at the table, Teddy perched on a nearby chair, his curious gaze following every bite.

It wasn’t until later that night that she heard the front door open. Harry walked in, his jacket slung over one arm and his keys jangling in his hand. She turned to look at him from the couch, immediately catching the faint scent of alcohol.

“Hey,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice even. “I texted you earlier. I was going to order Chinese. Thought maybe we could eat together.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression neutral. “I was with the band,” he said, his tone casual as he set his keys on the counter.

Her chest tightened. “I would’ve liked to come out with you,” she said, standing up and crossing her arms. “It’s been ages since we’ve done something together, Harry.”

He looked at her, an edge of defensiveness in his eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal, Y/N. Just me and the guys. You wouldn’t have wanted to sit around and listen to us talk about music all night.”

Her frustration bubbled to the surface. “You don’t know that! You didn’t even ask. I would’ve loved to just… be there with you. Spend time with you.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I’m trying to exclude you. I just—”

“You just don’t think about me anymore,” she interrupted, her voice quieter now but no less hurt. “Do you even realize how lonely it’s been, Harry? You come home late, you barely talk to me, and now you’re out drinking with the band while I’m here eating takeout by myself.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening. “I’m doing the best I can, Y/N. You think this is easy for me?”

“No, Harry, I don’t think it’s easy,” she shot back. “But it’s not supposed to be just you. It’s supposed to be us. And lately, it feels like I’m the only one trying to hold onto that.”

The silence that followed was deafening. He looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line, and she felt the familiar ache in her chest grow heavier.

Without another word, she turned and headed toward the bedroom as she had been night after night, and of course with Teddy trailing behind her. 

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, trying to steady the rush of emotions building inside her. Teddy rubbed against her legs, offering silent comfort, but her chest still felt impossibly heavy. She heard Harry’s footsteps approaching and tensed, unsure if she had the energy for yet another argument.

When the door opened, she glanced up to see him standing in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. For a moment, she thought he might apologize—finally acknowledge the hurt he’d been causing her.

But instead, his tone was sharp. “You’re always making this about you, Y/N. Do you ever stop to think about the pressure I’m under? Or is it just easier to sit here and point fingers or bitch at me?”

Her jaw dropped, the sting of his words hitting harder than she expected. “Are you serious right now?” she asked, her voice trembling with both anger and disbelief. “Did you come in here just to insult me?”

Harry’s expression shifted, the fire in his eyes dimming as her words seemed to sink in. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair. “No,” he said quietly, his voice faltering. “That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it,” she replied, her tone cold as she stood and faced him. “If you’re under so much pressure, why don’t you talk to me about it instead of shutting me out and turning to alcohol? Why am I the one who has to sit here, waiting, wondering if you even care anymore?”

Harry looked at her, guilt flashing across his face, but he didn’t have an answer. His silence spoke volumes.

Y/N nodded slowly, her mind made up in that moment. She couldn’t keep living like this, caught in the limbo of his neglect and her own heartache. “You know what? I think I need some space. I think weneed some space.”

His brows furrowed, his lips parting as if to argue, but she cut him off.

“I’m going to fly home and spend some time with my family,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “You need to figure out what you really want, Harry. Because this—” she gestured between them—“this isn’t working. And it’s not just on me to fix it.”

Harry hesitated, his expression torn. “You don’t have to—”

“No,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I do. And you need to do some real soul searching while I’m gone. Drinking in secret, shutting me out… that’s not going to help you or our failing relationship. You can’t keep running from whatever it is that’s eating away at you.”

He didn’t protest, didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The lack of resistance stung more than she cared to admit, but it also solidified her decision. If he wasn’t willing to fight for them, she couldn’t keep fighting alone.

Y/N took a deep breath, stepping past him and grabbing her suitcase from the closet. As she started packing, she felt a strange mix of sadness and relief.

The next morning, Y/N woke up with a knot in her stomach. The decision she had made the night before still felt right, but that didn’t make it any easier. She moved through the motions quietly, packing her suitcase and making sure Teddy had enough room in his carrier. The orange fluffball meowed pitifully as she zipped him inside, his big eyes watching her with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“I know, buddy,” she said softly, rubbing a hand over the top of the carrier. “We need this. Trust me.”

The cab ride to the airport was quiet, the city slipping past in a blur. She avoided looking at her phone, unwilling to see if Harry had texted or called. She doubted he had.

Hours later, she landed in upstate New York, the cold January air biting at her as she stepped outside the small airport. Her cousin Mia was already there, leaning against her car, arms crossed and a scarf wrapped snugly around her neck.

As soon as Y/N walked over, dragging her suitcase and holding Teddy’s carrier, Mia’s sharp gaze zeroed in on her. “Okay, spill. What the fuck happened? And why did you just up and leave your international pop star boyfriend?”

Y/N sighed, her breath fogging in the icy air as she loaded Teddy into the backseat. “Can we maybe not do this in the parking lot?”

“Nope.” Mia slammed the trunk shut after tossing in Y/N’s suitcase and leaned against the car door, refusing to budge. “You flew across the Atlantic with your cat. That screams big drama, and I need the tea, like, yesterday.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair as she leaned against the car next to Mia. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“It always is,” Mia replied, her tone both sarcastic and supportive. “But I’m gonna need more than that. Did he cheat? Is he secretly married? What’s the deal?”

Y/N shot her a glare. “No, nothing like that. He’s just… he’s been distant. Forgetting plans, working all the time, barely talking to me. It’s like I don’t even exist to him anymore.”

Mia tilted her head, studying her cousin. “Okay, so he’s an idiot. Got it. But why leave? Why not just, I don’t know, call him out on his bullshit?”

“I did,” Y/N said, her voice cracking slightly. “I tried, Mia. I tried so many times. And last night, he…” She paused, swallowing hard. “He came home smelling like alcohol again, and when I told him I would’ve liked to go out with him, he said it wasn’t a big deal, like I didn’t matter. And then he had the nerve to call me selfish when I got upset.”

Mia’s jaw dropped, and she raised a hand. “Oh, hell no. He did not.”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening as the memory of the fight replayed in her mind. “So, I told him I needed space. That I was coming home for a bit, and he needed to figure out what he wants. And he just… let me go.”

Mia let out a long whistle, shaking her head. “Okay, first of all, good for you for leaving. Second of all, what an absolute dumbass. Like, I’m sure he’s charming and hot and whatever, but damn, girl, he doesn’t deserve you acting like this.”

Y/N let out a small laugh despite herself. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t need to know him,” Mia said with a shrug. “I know you. And if he’s making you feel like shit, then he’s not doing his job as your boyfriend.”

Y/N nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter for the first time in days. “Thanks, Mia.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Mia said, opening the car door. “We’re gonna fix this. Either he pulls his head out of his ass, or we find you a hot new boyfriend who actually knows how to treat you right. Deal?”

Y/N smiled, climbing into the passenger seat. “Deal.”

As Mia started the car and pulled out of the lot, Y/N leaned back in her seat, gazing out at the snowy landscape. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N poured herself into rediscovering the things she loved, the parts of herself that had been lost in the haze of her strained relationship. She spent her days hiking the trails of upstate New York, taking in the crisp air and breathtaking views, her camera always in tow. At night, she indulged in greasy slices of pizza from her favorite childhood spot, the simple comfort of it reminding her of easier times.

She found herself smiling more, laughing louder, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was living for herself again. The weight that had pressed on her chest back in London had begun to lift, replaced with a growing sense of independence and self-assurance.

One night, Mia announced that it was time for a proper girls’ night out. “You’ve been hiking and taking artsy photos long enough,” Mia teased, rummaging through Y/N’s suitcase. “We’re hitting the clubs tonight. You, me, and some dangerously overpriced cocktails.”

Y/N laughed, watching as Mia held up a dress she hadn’t worn in months. “I don’t know, Mia. I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of scene again.”

Mia rolled her eyes, tossing the dress at her. “Nonsense. You need this. Trust me.”

Hours later, Y/N found herself in a crowded club, the bass thumping so hard she could feel it in her chest. She’d forgotten how freeing it felt to just let go, to dance without a care in the world, the swirl of neon lights and the buzz of tequila making everything feel lighter.

Mia kept her entertained with her usual wit, sharing hilarious, sometimes borderline chaotic stories about her own life. Y/N laughed until her sides hurt, her worries melting away with every sip of her drink.

“Okay, okay,” Mia said, holding up her hands as they stood by the bar for a breather. “You remember that guy I told you about—the one with the weird obsession with his bonsai trees?”

Y/N snorted into her drink. “How could I forget?”

“Well,” Mia continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “turns out he didn’t just have bonsai trees. He had dollhouses. Like, full-on, hand-painted dollhouses. I walked into his apartment, and it was like stepping into a miniaturized version of my nightmare.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was,” Mia said with a dramatic sigh. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve sworn off dating guys who call themselves ‘artists.’”

The two of them dissolved into laughter, the kind of deep, genuine laughter that made Y/N’s cheeks ache. She hadn’t felt this carefree in months.

As the night went on, Y/N found herself dancing again, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm of the music. She felt alive, untethered, and—for the first time in a long time—free.

Mia nudged her at one point, grinning mischievously. “See? I told you this was a good idea.”

Y/N nodded, her smile wide as she looked around the room. “Yeah. You were right. I needed this.”

And in that moment, as she twirled on the dance floor with her best friend cousin by her side, she realized that she was falling in love again—not with someone else, but with herself.

The morning light streamed through the windows as Y/N stood over the stove, flipping bacon while Mia chopped fruit at the counter. The apartment smelled of coffee and breakfast, the comforting sounds of sizzling and light chatter filling the space.

A sudden knock at the door broke the rhythm.

Both girls froze, glancing at each other. “You expecting anyone?” Y/N asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nope,” Mia replied, setting the knife down. “Probably Amazon or maybe bonsai guy finally returning to plead his case.” She smirked and tossed the dish towel over her shoulder.

“Go see who it is,” Y/N said, flipping the bacon. “And hurry back before this burns.”

“On it.” Mia walked to the door, muttering about early-morning interruptions as she swung it open.

She froze, her hand gripping the door, her mouth falling open. “Holy fuck,” she said, her voice loud and full of shock.

“What?” Y/N called, turning away from the stove, confused by Mia’s tone. “Who is it?”

When Mia didn’t answer, Y/N wiped her hands on her pajama pants and walked toward the door. Her heart started to race, a strange tension settling in her chest.

As she reached the entryway, she saw him.

Harry.

He stood there in the hallway, looking slightly disheveled, his hair messy, his coat hanging open. His expression was a mix of determination and something softer, something that made Y/N’s breath catch in her throat.

Their eyes met, and for a long moment, the world seemed to stop.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid.

She froze, her hands still at her sides, her mind racing as she tried to process the fact that he was here—standing on the doorstep of Mia’s apartment in upstate New York.

From the kitchen, Mia called out, “Do I keep the bacon going, or are we about to have a soap opera moment?”

But Y/N didn’t respond. Her eyes stayed locked on Harry, her chest tightening as she waited for him to say something more.

Y/N’s shock quickly gave way to a mix of confusion and irritation as she stared at Harry, standing there like he belonged on her cousin’s doorstep in the middle of upstate New York. Her arms crossed instinctively, and she narrowed her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended. “How did you even find me?”

He shifted on his feet, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. “You still had your location on,” he said simply, his voice calm. Y/n felt a little dumb for not realizing she forgot to turn that off. Even then, he had connections and could’ve easily found out where she was. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her confusion boiling with frustration. “You tracked me?”

“You didn’t answer my calls or texts and your phone went straight to voicemail,” he replied, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, anger bubbling up. “If you’re here to try and convince me to come home. I’m not going back.”

“I’m not asking you to come home,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze. “I just want to talk. That’s all.”

She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of an ulterior motive, her mind racing. Before she could respond, Mia’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Y/N, for the love of God, if you’re going to yell at him, do it outside,” Mia called from the kitchen, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “I have neighbors, and I don’t want them thinking we’re hosting some kind of reality TV reunion in here.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, letting out a frustrated breath as she glanced back at Mia, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed with an amused expression.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, turning back to Harry. She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door and stepped outside, letting the door click shut behind her. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she barely noticed as she faced Harry again.

The cold morning air hung around them as they walked down the quiet, woodsy street, the crunch of gravel under their shoes the only sound at first. Y/N kept her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her jaw clenched as she waited for Harry to speak. He walked beside her, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his head slightly bowed.

Finally, after a few minutes, he broke the silence. “I royally fucked up,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I took you for granted, Y/N. I thought… I thought you’d always be there, no matter how much I messed up, no matter how distant I got. And that was wrong.”

His words lingered in the crisp air, but Y/N didn’t respond. She kept her eyes ahead, her steps brisk and determined.

When he didn’t say more, she stopped abruptly and turned to him, her voice sharp with frustration and hurt. “You’re right it was wrong, Harry. Do you even realize how much you’ve hurt me? How lonely I’ve felt these past few months?”

Harry stopped too, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Y/N took a deep breath, her words spilling out in a torrent. “You’ve been more intimate with the studio than you’ve been with me. Do you know how humiliating it is to feel like you’re competing with someone’s job? To watch you pour your passion into everything else?”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“And the worst part,” she continued, her voice breaking, “is that I thought… I thought we were heading toward something real, Harry. I thought maybe you’d propose soon, that we’d start building a life together or a family. But now? Now it feels like we’re just heading for a breakup.”

Her words hung heavy between them, the raw honesty of her pain hitting like a punch to the gut. Harry finally looked up, his expression anguished, but he still didn’t speak.

“You didn’t even fight for me when I left,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now but no less hurt. “You just let me go, like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

“I—” he started, but she held up a hand.

“No. Don’t say anything yet. Just… listen.”

He nodded silently, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“I love you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I can’t keep doing this if you’re not going to meet me halfway. And if you can’t give me that, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

The words came out heavier than she expected, the weight of them settling in her chest as she stared at him. For the first time since they’d started walking, Harry’s eyes locked on hers, a mix of guilt and something else—something she couldn’t quite place—flickering in his gaze.

But he didn’t interrupt. He just stood there, listening, the gravity of her words sinking in. And for once, Y/N felt like he truly heard her.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hands still buried deep in his coat pockets. He looked at her, his jaw tightening for a moment before he let out a long breath.

“I don’t really know what to say,” he admitted quietly, his voice heavy with guilt. “Except that I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, her arms still crossed as she waited for more. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook so easily.

He looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been… I’ve been a bloody idiot, Y/N. I didn’t realize how much I was messing this up until you left. And even then, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I’d already lost you.”

Her chest tightened, but she didn’t speak. She wanted him to get it all out.

“So, I—” He hesitated, his cheeks reddening slightly as he looked back at her. “I talked to my mum.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “You talked to your mum about us?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t know who else to go to. She called me clueless—which, fair enough—but she also gave me some advice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching despite her frustration. “Oh, yeah? What’d she say?”

Harry’s gaze softened, his voice dropping. “She told me to stop thinking about what’s easy for me and start thinking about what’s right for us. She said if I couldn’t figure out how to show you how much you mean to me, then I don’t deserve to have you in my life.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting at the honesty in his voice.

“She also told me I’m a terrible communicator,” he added with a faint, self-deprecating smile. “And that I’ve probably made you feel like shit more than once without even realizing it.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with both irritation and something softer.

Harry nodded, his expression serious again. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, Y/N. I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. But I’m here because I don’t want to lose you. I want to be better—for you, for us. I just… I need a chance to prove it.”

She stood there, the cold air biting at her cheeks as she searched his face. There was something different about him now, something that felt raw and unguarded. She wasn’t sure if it was enough, but for the first time in weeks, she felt like he was truly seeing her.

She didn’t reply right away, letting his words hang in the air as she turned them over in her mind. Finally, she sighed and looked down at the ground. “You’ve got a lot to prove, Harry. And I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as the tension in her shoulders began to ease. She looked at Harry, his eyes still searching hers with an intensity that made her heart twist. Despite everything, despite the hurt and frustration, she couldn’t deny how much she missed him.

“I really missed you,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling just enough to make him lean closer. “Even when I was mad at you—even when I thought I couldn’t stand the sight of you—all I wanted to do was just… jump on you and kiss you. Hug you.”

Harry’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of surprise and relief washing over his face. “You mean that?”

“Of course, I do,” she said, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. “I love you, Harry. That’s why this hurt so much. You’ve always been my person, and for a while there, I didn’t feel like yours anymore.”

His face softened, and he took a tentative step closer, his voice low. “You are, Y/N. You’ll always be my person. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t.”

The sincerity in his voice melted the last of her defenses, and she let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You’re so lucky I love you. But you better believe I’m going to make you work for it.”

“I’m ready,” Harry said with a soft smile.

Y/N tilted her head, her smile widening as a thought crossed her mind. “You know, I’m a little embarrassed now.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” she said, letting out a laugh, “I have to go back inside and tell Mia that we made up. And trust me, she was rooting for full-blown drama. She’s probably already drafting a speech about why I should dump you.”

Harry chuckled, his first genuine laugh of the morning. “Think she’ll let me stay for breakfast, or is that asking too much?”

Y/N smirked, shaking her head. “Don’t push your luck. But if you charm her enough, she might give you a piece of bacon.”

“Well, I’m pretty good at charming people,” he teased, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her.

Y/N rolled her eyes but leaned into him, finally letting herself relax in his embrace. She rested her head against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like things might actually be okay.

“Come on,” she said after a moment, pulling back slightly. “Let’s go face the dragon.”

Harry grinned, threading his fingers through hers. “Lead the way.”

As they approached the house, Y/N noticed a familiar figure standing in the window. Mia was leaning against the sill, a mug of coffee in her hands, her face a mix of amusement and curiosity as she stared out at them.

“Looks like she’s already got commentary locked and loaded,” Y/N muttered, glancing at Harry with a smirk.

“Should I be scared?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” Y/N replied with a grin.

When they stepped onto the porch, Mia was already opening the door, one hand still clutching her coffee. She looked them over, her eyes flicking between Y/N’s flushed face and Harry’s sheepish expression.

“So,” Mia began, drawing out the word with a smirk. “I’m guessing you two worked it out, considering the lack of yelling and door slamming.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we talked. You’re not getting the drama you were hoping for.”

Mia shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Honestly? I’m kind of happy. As much as I love you, Y/N, I also really love walking around my house in my underwear. Having you here has seriously cramped my vibe.”

Harry stifled a laugh as Y/N gawked at her cousin. “Oh, my God, Mia!”

“What?” Mia said, grinning as she stepped aside to let them in. “I’m just saying, you two reconciling works out for everyone. Love wins, and I get my space back. It’s a win-win.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she stepped into the house with Harry following behind. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s why you love me,” Mia said with a wink, heading back to the kitchen. “Now, who’s hungry? And Harry, if you’re sticking around, you better pull your weight. Bacon doesn’t flip itself, pop star.”

Y/N glanced at Harry, who was clearly trying not to laugh as he hung up his coat. “Welcome to the family,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, leaning closer to whisper, “I think I’m more scared of Mia than I was of losing you.”

Y/N smacked his arm playfully, but the smile on her face lingered as they followed Mia to the kitchen. 

[avonnimimi]

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Plugged

The Series. Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

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a/n: HEY GURLIES. please don’t hate me for how i turned this around🙏🏽 things will get better trust 💯 @wannabe-fic-reader @hcneymooners @halle5s hope you enjoy pretty girls<3 MEN AND MINORS DNI

content: drug dealer!Vi x black fem reader, arguing, angst, alcohol, violence (kinda), vi with a cocky attitude, phone sex, cheating (?). lmk if i missed anything!

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You woke up on Vi's side of the bed, her scent still lingering, but the spot beside you was empty. For a second, your chest tightened, panic creeping in, but then the sound of clanking pans from the kitchen snapped you out of it.

Your fingers brushed the tender bruise on your cheek, the ache sharp enough to make you wince. You hissed under your breath when you pressed too hard, the sting pulling you straight back into the mess of last night.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you followed the noise. There she was; Vi, back turned, moving around like nothing happened. She was cooking, her broad shoulders flexing under her tattoos, the curve of her muscles catching the dim morning light. She was in her sports bra and boxers, and the sight made your stomach twist in the worst, most frustrating way.

You clenched your thighs together, flashes of last night hitting you hard and fast. She hadn't even fucked you properly, and yet you were still aching, still wet. The way she talked to you, the way she grabbed you, like she owned every piece of you. It made your body burn.

You were too caught up in the memory to notice her turning around until her gravelly morning voice cut through your haze.

"Morning, mama," she said, her tone low, rough in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

She flicked the stove off and started walking toward you, her eyes already locked on your face. Her hand reached for your cheek, her fingers brushing so soft it almost broke you. But the second she touched the bruise, you flinched and stepped back.

Her hand froze midair, her expression shifting into something you didn't quite recognize; confusion mixed with something darker. Then she scoffed, her lips curling into a tight, annoyed smirk.

"This what we on now?" she asked, her voice sharp, cutting. "For real?"

"I just... I need time to think," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Your arms wrapped around yourself like they could keep you from falling apart. All you really wanted was for her to hold you, to tell you shit was gonna be okay.

But Vi wasn't having it. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened as she stepped closer. "Thinkin'? You wasn’t fucking thinkin' last night when you was beggin' me to fuck you, huh?"

Her words hit like a slap, your lip trembling as you tried to find something, anything, to say. But she didn't give you the chance.

"Nah, go on. Think all you want. But don't stand here actin' like you don't know what it is." Her voice was low, almost growling now, and it made your chest feel like it was caving in.

"It's not like that," you said, shaking your head. Your voice cracked, betraying how lost you felt. "I just... I don't know what I'm doin', Vi."

Vi let out a dry laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah, I know. You don't gotta tell me that, precious. But lemme tell you somethin'; stop sittin' here tryna convince yourself that Donte love you. That man don't love shit but his ego."

Your chest heaved, her words punching the air right out of your lungs. "He does! He loves me!" you shouted, but even you didn't believe it.

Vi's face hardened, and she grabbed your arm, yanking you closer. Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, noses almost touching as your eyes dropped to her lips. "You hear yourself? You sound crazy right now. Like, you really sittin' here defendin' the same dude who left them bruises on you? For what? Huh?"

You tried to pull back, but she wasn't letting go. "He ain't love you, mama. Love don't hit. Love don't leave you lookin' like this."

"Shut up!" you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and shame. Before you could stop yourself, your hand flew up, slapping her across the face.

The sound echoed through the kitchen, and for a moment, everything froze. Vi's head turned from the force of it, but when she looked back at you, her lips curled into the faintest smile, like she liked it.

"You don't know shit about our relationship," you hissed, your voice shaking.

Her smile disappeared, replaced by something colder. "Oh yeah? So why I know he ain't never made you cum? Not once, huh? Tell me I'm lyin', precious."

Your throat tightened, tears stinging your eyes.

"That's what I thought," Vi said, her voice quieter now but no less cutting.

"You ain't stayin' with him cause he love you. You stayin' cause you liked being his little trophy. Like thinkin' he could protect you. But he didn't, did he?"

"Vi, stop," you begged, your voice breaking.

"Nah, you know I'm right," she pressed, stepping closer. "That's why every time you see me, you get all wet, huh? Why your pussy get sticky f'me, cause she knows who the fuck she belongs to. Go head. Tell me I'm wrong."

The tears finally spilled over, your body trembling as her words cracked you wide open. You hated her for saying it, for being right, for seeing through you when you couldn't even see through yourself.

Vi sighed, the fight draining out of her.

When she spoke again, her voice was softer, almost tired. "I ain't tryna hurt you, precious. But you gotta wake up. You killin yourself over someone who don't give a fuck about you."

You couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't look at her, couldn't stand the weight of her words.

"You know where to find me when you figure your shit out," she said, her tone flat. Then she walked away, leaving you standing there with your shame and your tears.

Your hands shook as you called Shay to come get you. Every part of you was burning-anger, embarrassment, heartbreak. And somewhere deep down, that awful, gut-wrenching truth:

she was right.

—

Vi sat on her couch, head leaning back against the cushion, her thoughts heavy and chaotic. She really thought she had you, that you were finally breaking free from Donte’s bullshit. But nah, your head was still caught up in the spiral. She couldn’t even blame you, not fully. You’d been with that dude for years, and she’d only just stepped into the picture. Still, it didn’t make the sting any less sharp.

When Vi overheard you on the phone with Shay earlier, mentioning coming to get you, something in her told her to follow. She didn’t want to seem like a creep, but the thought of you spiraling alone didn’t sit right. Instead of taking her Hellcat, Vi hopped on her bike. It’d be easier to stay lowkey that way.

It didn’t take long to catch up, trailing a few cars behind Shay’s car , pulling up to Shay’s house. Vi parked a distance away, helmet still on, watching. She saw you step out of the car, your face red and puffy, tears still fresh. Your brown nose was almost glowing from how much you’d been crying, and your braids were piled into that messy, floppy bun you did when you didn’t give a damn about how you looked. Shay came out as well, pulling you into her arms, and for some reason, that little scene hit Vi like a punch to the chest.

Vi stayed there for almost an hour, sitting on her bike, second-guessing every instinct she had. But when you and Shay came back out and got in your car, Vi couldn’t stop herself from following. It was loose at first, just keeping her distance, making sure you were okay, but then she saw where you were heading.

Donte’s place.

“Fuck you doin’, mama?” Vi muttered under her breath, kissing her teeth as she rolled her neck in frustration. She should’ve turned around right then, left you to your mess. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

She parked farther down the block, watching as you knocked on Donte’s door. When he answered, the sight of his beat-up face made you gasp, like you cared. Like this man who’d tried to sell you off deserved your sympathy. Vi’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. What the hell were you thinking?

And then Donte grabbed your face, yelling at you like you were nothing, making you flinch. Vi’s hands tightened on the handlebars of her bike, her jaw ticking. Her instincts screamed at her to rush over, to throw him through that doorframe and leave him on the pavement. But she didn’t move. Not yet. You needed to see it for yourself. You needed to finally realize what Vi had been trying to tell you: this man didn’t love you. He didn’t deserve you.

But then it happened. He kissed you, and you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back.

Vi’s stomach twisted like she’d been gut-punched. Disgust clawed its way up her throat, and her chest burned like she’d swallowed fire. She couldn’t sit there anymore. Not for another damn second.

Revving her bike, she sped off, making sure the roar of her engine was loud enough for you to hear. You glanced up. You didn’t have to see her face to know it was her. And she didn’t have to see yours to know the guilt that flashed across it.

“Good,” Vi muttered under her breath, her voice cracking in a way that made her hate herself. “Let that shit sink in.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving you to drown in the mess you’d made.

—

That night, Vi found herself in a club she hadn't stepped foot in for years.

As soon as she walked in, the heavy bass hit her chest, and the air was thick with sweat and cheap perfume. The crowd was wild-girls in barely anything, asses shaking, lights flashing like some chaotic fever dream.

She didn't even make it five steps before the DJ's voice cut through the music.

"Aye, hold up-yo, is that Vi?"

A smirk tugged at her lips as she threw her arms up, the spotlight catching her face.

"The one and only!" she called back, grinning like she owned the place. And in her mind, she did.

Seven years ago, this was her spot.

Back then, she couldn't go a weekend without pulling up, drinking, and making the strippers lose their damn minds. Vi slid into her usual booth like no time had passed, legs spread wide, a glass of Henny in her hand, surveying the room like a queen on her throne. Nothing had changed much, not the people, not the vibe. Except her.

She sat there, pretending to enjoy the scene, but her mind wouldn't stop replaying the image of you kissing Donte. Willingly. The thought made her grip tighten on her glass, jaw clenching as she tried to shake it off.

That's when her eyes landed on a stripper working the pole. Candy. She looked different-older, but still moving like she owned every pair of eyes in the room. Candy noticed Vi watching and smirked, bending over to shake her ass in Vi's direction.

Years ago, Vi would've already had her bent over in the VIP room, no hesitation. But now? All she could think about was you. And how you chose him.

Candy didn't let up, though. She climbed off the pole, strutting her way over in nothing but a thong, fishnets, and heels, her chest practically spilling out. The confidence in her stride was magnetic, but it didn't do a thing for Vi tonight.

Candy slid onto Vi's lap, draping her arms around Vi's neck like she belonged there. Her lips brushed against Vi's ear as she whispered,

"Long time, no see, Vi."

Vi took another sip of her drink, unbothered, her expression cold. "Not in the mood, Candy. Not now, not ever."

Candy pouted, leaning closer, her voice dripping with fake seduction.

"What do you mean? The infamous Vi's finally out, and you're not gonna fuck your favorite girl? What a shame..." Her tongue flicked up the side of Vi's neck, testing her limits.

Vi didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, she pulled her gun and pressed the barrel to Candy's temple. The stripper froze, her breath catching, eyes wide with terror.

"Play with me again, Candy," Vi whispered, her voice low and venomous, "and I swear to God, I'll kill you."

Candy scrambled off her lap so fast she nearly tripped over her heels, running toward the dressing room without a backward glance.

Vi sighed, tucking the gun back into her waistband before leaning her head against the back of the couch. She stared up at the ceiling, her grip tightening on the now empty glass in her hand.

"Fuck me.." she groaned, the weight of everything crashing down on her.

But no amount of Henny or strippers could drown out the image of you with him. Nothing could.

Vi stomped out the club, the cold air biting at her skin as she slid into her Hellcat. The leather creaked under her weight as she leaned back, hands gripping the wheel like it might ground her. She didn't even start the engine when her phone lit up with an unknown number.

"Yo," she answered, voice low, already annoyed.

The line crackled, quiet for a second, then she heard it. Donte.

"Aye, Vi," his voice oozed arrogance, the kind that made her wanna punch through the steering wheel. "I know you fucked wit' this bitch, but guess what? She back in my bed now."

Vi's stomach twisted, a mix of rage and disgust boiling up. Then she heard it; the unmistakable sound of skin slapping, muffled grunts, and... your voice.

Her grip on the wheel tightened, her breathing steady, but her chest burned.

"Tell her how good I fuck you," Donte growled in the background, his words sleazy, disgusting.

Vi closed her eyes for a second, fighting the urge to drive straight to his spot and end it. But she stayed on the line, listening because she couldn't not listen.

Then she heard it; your whimpers, your soft, broken voice cutting through all the noise.

"V-Vi….."

Her eyes snapped open, the sound of your voice pushing her over the edge. You called for her, but she wasn't about to make this easy for you.

"Want me to help you cum, mama?" she said, her tone sharp, taunting, dripping with venom. You didn't say anything, but she could feel you were hesitating, your body reacting to her words through the phone.

"Your lil' pussy gettin' fucked by somebody she don't even want," Vi mocked, her voice low, almost a growl. "Go on, mama. Fuck yourself on his dick. Do it for me."

The rhythm in the background shifted, the slaps changing pace. Vi smirked. She knew you were listening, knew you couldn't help it. "Yeah, that's it," Vi purred, her words slow, teasing. "That feel good? Huh? Feels good, don't it, pretty girl?" She heard your breath hitch, a whimper slipping out, and she grinned.

"Pinch them nipples f'me, mama," she commanded, voice soft but firm, a dangerous edge to it. She heard the sharp intake of breath, the little sound you made when you did exactly what she told you to. "Yeah, baby. Bet it feels better when I do it."

In the background, Donte's dumbass finally chimed in. "Shit, I ain't never felt you this wet before." Vi nearly laughed, shaking her head. "Sad-ass boy," she muttered under her breath, her focus still on you.

"Use your hand, pretty. Play wit' that pussy while he fuckin' you," Vi said, her tone dark and possessive. "Get that pussy real messy for me." She heard a faint "mhm," and her chest tightened, her jealousy fighting with the satisfaction of knowing she had you exactly where she wanted.

"Yeah, that's it, mama. Keep goin' till you cream f'me," she pushed, her voice low and smooth.

And then it happened. She heard your moans break, her name spilling from your lips as you came, loud and clear. “fuckkkk Vi!” Vi heard you moan over the phone.

Vi imaged you, thighs shaking, pussy fluttering and creaming for her, vision so good Vi almost moaned.

The line went dead quiet for a second before Donte lost it, his voice roaring as he grabbed the phone. But it didn't matter. Vi grinned, her head falling back against the seat.

You came for her. Not him. Never him.

Vi sat there, phone pressed to her ear, listening as Donte started wildin'. "Whore," he spat, his voice venomous. "You really came for another nigga Huh?!"

Vi didn't even flinch, her grip on the phone steady. She heard the rustle as Donte snatched the phone, his breathing heavy like he was gearing up to run his mouth.

Before he could even get a word out, Vi cut him off, her tone sharp, dripping with smugness.

"Yeah, bitch," she drawled, her words slow and deliberate. "Ask her who that pussy for. That'll tell you who fucks her good."

The line went dead as Vi hung up, no time for his bullshit.

She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, her grin growing as she started the engine. The Hellcat roared to life, the sound vibrating through her chest.

Vi gripped the wheel, her smile turning smug as she sped off into the night.

—————————————————————————

this is my original post, please don’t repost, translate, or plagiarize my work ;)

©️avonnimimi 2024

[stylesluxx]

all of the girls you loved before – a. hotchner

[warnings: none]

summary: in which y/n is grateful for aaron's experiences – inspired by all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift

word count: 773

main masterlist

You've heard the stories before, the whispered mentions of the women that had come before you. Each one left a mark on him, a trace you sometimes wondered if you could see in the way he moved, the way he held you when you felt his steady hands against your back. Aaron Hotchner didn't often talk about them, but in the quiet moments, their presence lingered like a ghost in the room, a history you couldn't touch but could feel.

It wasn't jealousy, exactly. It was more the weight of knowing you weren't his first love, that he had lived entire lifetimes before you. Maybe you'd catch him staring off into the distance, his jaw tight as memories flickered across his face. You never pried, though the questions sometimes bubbled at the back of your throat. He would have told you if he wanted to, you reminded yourself.

But tonight was different. Tonight, something between you shifted.

You were sitting together on the porch, the soft hum of autumn night air around you, the distant sounds of traffic on the street below a low murmur. The team was away on a case, but for once, he wasn't. He had stayed behind, citing exhaustion, though you knew it wasn't just about fatigue. He needed time. Space. And you were here for him, silently offering the support he rarely let himself ask for.

Aaron sipped his drink, his fingers grazing the glass as he looked out into the darkened sky. You followed his gaze, wondering where his mind had drifted this time. His silence wasn't unusual, but there was a tension tonight that made the air between you feel thicker than usual. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft, like he wasn't sure he was ready for the words.

"I don't think I've ever told you about Haley."

His ex-wife. You'd heard her name before, of course, but he rarely mentioned her. Even now, years after her death, the grief still hung in his eyes when he did. You turned slightly, giving him your full attention, heart tightening as you prepared yourself for whatever he needed to say.

"She was... everything to me. For a long time." He let out a breath, his thumb tracing the rim of his glass. "And when I lost her, I didn't think I could feel that way again. About anyone."

You didn't speak, just listened, knowing this wasn't something you could fix. This was something he had to let out, piece by piece.

"I wasn't looking for this, for us." His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world stopped turning. "But somehow, you're here."

He shifted, setting his drink aside and taking your hand in his. His fingers were warm against yours, grounding you as his gaze softened, the weight of years of pain and love swirling in his eyes.

"I used to think the past would always have this hold on me, that I'd never be able to let go of all the girls I loved before. But then I realized... they led me here. To you."

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing into your chest. You didn't need him to explain further. You knew what he meant—that every love, every loss, every heartbreak had shaped him into the man sitting beside you. And somehow, through all of it, he had found his way to you.

He squeezed your hand, a silent reassurance that he was here, with you, now.

"I don't regret any of it," he continued, his voice quieter now. "Because without it, I wouldn't have you. And that's something I wouldn't trade for anything."

The tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them, the emotion of his confession wrapping around your heart. You'd always known there was a part of him that would forever belong to the past, to Haley, to the life he had before. But now, hearing him say it, you realized it wasn't about competing with those memories. It was about understanding that you were part of his story now, a chapter he hadn't expected but cherished all the same.

You leaned in, resting your head on his shoulder as he pulled you closer, the unspoken understanding settling between you. There was no need for more words, not tonight. You both knew that love wasn't about erasing the past—it was about accepting it, embracing it, and realizing that every step along the way had led to this moment.

And in that moment, you realized something too.

You were glad for all the girls he loved before, because without them, without everything he had been through, you might never have found your way to him.

And now that you had, you weren't going to let go.

[AN: oh hey... I think I'm going to do febuwhump to get out of my writing slump. I'll keep you guys updated. I also have a ko-fi account now??? no pressure but it's link in my navigation and here! and of course... my taglist. lmk your thoughts. love you byeee]

[datbitchbonnie]

"Bonnie..."

"Yeah, Brian?" "It's just... nevermind." Brian said with a sigh as his eyes drifted to the floor. Brian gulps and clenches his right hand into a fist.

"You can tell me anything, Bri." Bonnie's silky smooth voice fills the room and makes Brian's tail twitch and face turn rosy pink.

"Well... it's just that... I feel really comfortable with you, Bonnie." Brian says nervously as his eyes widen. Bonnie doesn't know what to say or if he's finished so she just looks at him eagerly. Brian realizes this so he gulps and continues.

"I've never felt the way I do with you before... I..." Brian moves towards Bonnie on the bed. He puts his hand on hers and she doesn't move it.

Bonnie's eyes widen and she hesitates. "I'm flattered, really," She says. "but... I'm not in love with you, Brian."

Brian's gaze darkens as his eyes avoid Bonnie at all costs. "I-I know. I know you're not. I just..." he pauses and finally his eyes meet Bonnie with a sense of intense longing. "I can't stop thinking of you and... and..." their faces draw together slowly like two magnets until Bonnie can feel Brian's breath on her bottom lip.

"I need you, Bonnie."

The tension between them rises in a matter of seconds and soon Brian and Bonnie are kissing on the mouth, tongues sloppily battling in their hot mouths as they push their bodies together, panting between kisses as the tension rises and rises until neither of them can take it anymore.

Brian slides his hand under Bonnie's shirt and Brian can feel his member twinge against the side of his leg. Bonnie's hand falls at the bottom of Brian's back, pulling him closer by his waist as she tongues him deep in his drooling mouth. Brian's hand finally reaches Bonnie's nipple and he rubs it while groping her boob. His tail thumps against the bed over and over as Bonnie kisses him harder and harder, moaning into his open mouth.

Their faces slowly pull away as a line of spit connects their bottom lips, they stare into each other's eyes with lust, noticing a new flame born within them both. Brian pulls off his blue argyle sweater vest and maroon red collar in one swift movement of his arms, inspiring Bonnie to do the same with her black V-neck top.

The second Brian lays eyes on her perky breasts and soft pink nipples he can't help but push himself on her, the force of his warm body pushing her over onto her black pillows. Bonnie's eyes widen as he kisses and nibbles her neck, one hand on her breast and the other seductively inching towards her hot wet slit. She moans as his fingers get closer and closer, until suddenly Bonnie hesitates.

"Brian..." she says softly. "I don't want you to get any wrong ideas about the way I feel about you..." she swallows and her eyes soften as her cheeks turn pink. "but I want you, Brian. I want you to fuck me."

Brian can't hold himself back anymore, he pulls Bonnie's skirt down and exposes his twitching member. Bonnie bites her lip as he takes it and pushes the steaming hot tip against her perfect pink opening. He can't help himself as he forcefully thrusts his massive girth into her, making a loud moan escape from between her painted black lips. She howls and buckles her hips as Brian pushes into her over and over, thumping the headboard against the wall with rapid thunks. Bonnie can't control herself as moans fill her whole house, Brian softly moans along with her as he feels her squeeze around his throbbing manhood.

"Bonnie-..." Brian stutters between moans. Bonnie grabs his hips and pulls him deeper inside her moist core. He moans and thrusts faster as he feels her lips tighten.

"Oh-" Bonnie moans. "Oh, Joe!" she moans loader as her hips buckle. Brian doesn't have a second to process what she said before he feels his velvet cock twitch and push out thick silver ropes all over Bonnie's stomach as he pulls out, the cum dripping down her perfectly flat stomach into her bellybutton.

"Bonnie..." Brian pants as his veiny girth becomes flaccid between his legs. Bonnie's knees twitch before she slits up to look at him with a sorry but cold glance. She doesn't speak a word as Brian tries to find something to say. But he can't. His eyes darken as he stands up and hands Bonnie a towel before quickly throwing his shirt back on. He looks back at her again and the two don't exchange more than cold glances. He turns around fixes his hair before opening Bonnie's bedroom door and exiting her home...

Brian stares at the Swanson house as Joe pulls into their driveway.

"Hey Brian!" Joe says as he starts getting out of his car.

"Oh, hey Joe." Brian mumbles, not really paying attention.

"How's your day going, man?"

Brian ponders the question for a second. His groin, still warm, aches. His heart strings pull tightly at his chest, restricting his breath.

"It's going good." He says.

[earlgreylatte]

i loved your work with the yandere green lanterns, can you make more im begging girl (its up to you btw) 🙏🏻😍

Give and Take

Men were kind of like animals, you think while starting at Hal and Guy get into each other’s face like deers looking to impale the other with its antlers. But, you know too well that would just lead to a deadlock, so seeing that John isn’t here to break them up, you simply sigh and move to place yourself between the arguing duo.

“—what were you even thinking, bringing her to that shit stain of a sector!?”

“Like anything would happen to her on my watch, so maybe take that stick out of your—!”

You place a hand on either man’s chest, and try to push them away, but both men remain unmovable, “Calm down, there’s no need to shout at each other like this. And for the record, I wanted to go there. A plague hit a planet in that ‘shit stain’ sector pretty hard and it’s kind of my job to fix that, Hal.”

Hal pinches a finger between his brow, “You know it’s not safe right now, and I don’t like the idea of you being outside this sector, much less the other side of the universe—!”

Guy scoffs, “She was with me, a Green Lantern, nobody could have gotten the drop on us. Face it, you’re just mad that I had her keeping me warm for once instead of you.”

Hal’s face tightens with anger for a second before he takes a breath and shoots you a look of exasperation, “Did you really convince Guy to take you out by letting him…was it even worth it?”

“Yes,” you answer without a beat of hesitation, while Guy loudly protests. Letting Guy use your mouth was a small price to pay to save the lives of many.

“You,” Hal begins, a fond quirk of his lips betraying the previous sternness of his demeanour, “are a real vixen sometimes.”

You know you’re not off the hook when you stare into his darkened eyes that trailed down your body in appreciation, acting as if he hadn’t seen you just last week.

But, you’re more than familiar in dealing with the whims of Green Lantern, even if it means toeing the line of their overprotectiveness and your duties. So you simply retract your suit, revealing your bare flesh as Guy lets out a noise of appreciation behind you. Hal exhales, raising a hand to cradle your face, as you nuzzle your cheek against his palm, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“You make it impossible to be mad at you when you act so obedient,” Hal muses, letting his hand trail down to your neck, pressing his thumb against your pulse, “but you know that, don’t you?”

You simply lift his hand off you, and bring it to grip your breast instead, “Let me be good for you then, Hal.”

He audibly stifles a groan as he wraps an arm around your waist to press you against his clothed erection. “Don’t think I’m going to let you off easy, you won’t be leaving bed for the next week after I’m done with you.”

You feel a hand grope your rear, as Guy sandwiches you between him and Hal, “Sure you got it in you, think I see some grey hairs. Maybe let me take the lead, old timer.”

Hal’s grip on you tightens, “I’m going to kill you, Guy.”

Despite his words, he seems more focused on dropping a hand between your legs, as your head falls against his shoulder with a shaky breath.

You have no doubt that even by himself Hal would carry out his promise, so you’re sure adding Guy to the mix will put you through the wringer, but it was a small burden to bare as a Blue Lantern. It was give and take with Green Lanterns, after all.

They get to possess your body, mind, and loyalty, tugging you around like a cherished toy, and you get to do your job. Sometimes.

And, maybe you enjoyed it that way.

‘STOPPPP FIGHTINGGG’ blue lantern reader cracks me up, sometimes…I think I go pretty light on yan content, like reader has to be an enabler or I feel guilty lol…

Masterlist

[orions-choker]

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Serial Killers, Murder, Obsessions, Yandere tendencies, more to be added.

Chapter Nine

The silver earring glinted out of place in her jewelry box, amongst all her strikingly gold pieces. She shouldn’t have taken it, she knew that much but she couldn’t help it. It sat there like an unnerving prize for her dedication in snooping about where Kirk had specifically told her not to. But why? If it was a random girl he had fleeting slept with she could stomach that. There was something incredibly disconcerting however about its place tucked away with his knife, hidden from view like a secret.

“You good baby?” Kirk’s voice called from behind her. Quickly she snapped the wooden case closed and turned to meet him where he leant against the doorframe of her bedroom. It had been a week since she had found it. She had spent nearly every day since then with him, she hadn’t gotten a single call since she had devoted her time to Kirk under the pretense of his protection. It was just one of many glaring concerns that she had been willfully ignoring.

Her parents were unfortunately out of town this weekend, on a business trip. They had begged Y/N to come along with them, and for good reason. What parent in their right mind would leave their daughter alone during times like these. However there was something about the look in Kirk’s eyes when she told him that made her insist to her parents she would be fine alone, plus someone needed to look after the dog…right?

Which is how she ended up with Kirk staying here. He had gotten comfortable a little too quickly for her liking. Moving through her house like he had been there plenty of times before. He hadn’t… Her mother would never willingly let him come in here. Something was wrong, and she couldn’t place her finger on it, nor did she really feel like she wanted to. It was easier to ignore the unsettling behavior and focus on how sweet he was, how warm he made her feel.

She smiled at him and leaned back against her dresser as he approached her. He looked a little out of place in her soft feminine room. “Yeah I’m okay, just zoned out.” She lied easily to him. Why ruin a good thing right? She closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her. Her fingers gripped the edge of her dresser. Kissing him had become like second nature to her now, as easy as breathing. He took from her whenever he felt like now.

His hands slipped down across the curve of her waist before settling in the dip of her hips, tugging them forward to press flush against his. He let out a sweet needy moan that had her eagerly twitching against him. Y/N slipped her hands up to cup the back of his neck and pull him in deeper. “Please,” He spoke against her with a growing desperation she had begun to get familiar with. It scared her to a degree. “I want you so fucking bad.” He tightened his fingers against her.

Y/N had been avoiding this for a while now, maybe too long, since the night she went down on him in the back of his car…the night the last victim had been found. The images came rushing back to her, the alley, the smell of blood, the brutal way in which her body had been found. Quickly she broke away from him with wide eyes, her chest heaving as a panicked fear gripped her tightly. It settled against her skin, making her break out in sweat that cooled instantly against the air in her room.

“Woah, woah hey.” Kirk’s voice softened, going all sticky and sweet the way she liked. There were fingers cupping her face, forcing her to look up into his eyes. Nothing felt quite real, like he was pulling her from cold water and forcing air back into her lungs. “Y/N? What's going on, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to freak you out!” His voice was laced with apologetic undertones that she didn’t know if she really believed was genuine.

Blood, Dismemberment, pure gore. The brutal descriptors of each murder that had taken place. The venomous threats from the phone calls for her, the familiarity in which the man on the phone had addressed her with, his taunting calls that this was all her fault. Her brain thrummed painfully against the confines of her skull. She gripped at her hair in a desperate attempt to distract herself from the painful pounding. Her fault, her fault.

Finally she was snapped from her trance by gentle shaking of her shoulders. Kirk’s panicked eyes finally came into focus in front of her. “Breathe, please.” He pleaded. Oh, she was on the verge of a full blown panic attack. Slowly she nodded and inhaled one large shaky breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it and falling forward to rest her head against his shoulder. “There you go,” He mumbled, his heavy hand coming to rest on the small of her back and rubbing a gentle pattern against the fabric of her shirt.

She took another moment to fill her lungs until she no longer needed to remind herself how to breathe. “Sorry,” She whispered, her voice sounded distant to her own ears. She pulled away from his embrace, moving past him to sit herself on the edge of her bed. She watched his lips pull into a frown before quickly shaking it off and moving to sit beside her. “I just- I’m still…” She swallowed hard and looked towards her bedroom window. That ever present feeling of being watched in her room had dissipated with Kirk around…was it the feeling of being protected or…

“You’re still not ready to have sex with me?” The man's words cut through her thoughts, striking at her. They sounded more bitter, accusatory. It caught her off guard greatly. Her eyes widening as her face scrunched up into a mixture of disbelief and disgust. He took notice and quickly tried to cover his tracks. “Sorry I didn’t mea-”

Cutting him off Y/N shook her head. “This has nothing to do with me wanting to, or not wanting to fuck you Kirk” She said in exasperation. Her hands went limp in her lap as she scrutinized him under her gaze. “God can you…can you think without your dick for one second?” She snapped at him, she had never snapped at him. She had never needed to. Lately however, no, since the beginning actually, his actions had been consistently driven with a lustful undertone. It flattered her at first, but every single action he made towards her now seemed to be with the intent to consume her. “I was thinking about being fucking murdered, y’know the very real threat I'm still dealing with!”

Kirk furrowed his brows, his eyes going…blank. Like all the shine and life had been sapped from them. His hands twitched, furling and unfurling his fingers repeatedly in what looked like a motion intended to soothe his nerves. She shivered, for all the comfort he offered her, he induced fear within her tenfold. It felt silly when there was nothing outwardly intimidating about him, he wasn’t strikingly tall, or muscular, he didn’t look scary. But the way his face went void of all emotion in the drop of hat, the inherent way he reacted with violence before correcting himself.

The push and pull between her desire to keep him near and run far away from him had left her in a constant limbo state of anxiety. Her eyes flicked across him waiting for him to speak once more. She opened her mouth to apologize, she didn’t feel she was in the wrong for her observation but she would much rather keep the peace. “Sorry I… I’ve been a little pent up, I shouldn’t make you feel like it’s your fault.” He finally broke the stifling silence. “I do…I do care, you know, about all of this. You’ve just been so good at putting on a brave face I kind of forgot.”

Had she been playing it off that well? She didn’t think so in the slightest. The nightmares, the dissociation, the very fact she was staying with him all week out of fear? Was that really putting on a brave face? Still it was a better explanation than none, an apology to settle the tension. She would take it. With a sigh she nodded and offered him a small smile. “Yeah, sorry.” She whispered. “Didn’t mean to yell at you like that.” One ingenuine apology for another.

In a way that was so tender it nearly made her forget her anger, Kirk cupped her cheek and leaned down to push his lips against her forehead. Y/N melted against him, resting the weight of her head in his hands. “It’s okay you can yell at me whenever you want, I can take it.” He cracked a crooked grin and his eyes sparkled with warmth. Flip of a switch, two sides, she needed to not get lost in it. Slowly he pulled his hands away and her head dropped with a whine of protest.

She grasped at him, curling her fingers into his hair and slipping her lips along the underside of his jaw. “It’s not that I don’t want to, y’know, sleep with you.” her breath ghosted across his skin. “I just can’t seem to let my guard down.” She admitted softly. Every time she tried she was struck with debilitating fear. Her whole body tensing up and shutting down. Her brain was running into overdrive in fight or flight mode.

Kirk nodded with a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s okay you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” He cupped the back of her head keeping her pressed into his neck, a soft breath escaping him as her lips latched onto his skin once more. “been waiting a while, I can wait longer.” He hummed and tilted his head back further.

Been waiting a while? It had only been a few weeks, maybe a month since she had come home for the summer, since they had started talking. Sure maybe that was a while for most impatient men looking to get their dick wet. But his voice was filled with the longing and melancholy of someone who had been yearning for a long time, too long. “What do you mean waiting for a while?” She asked gently as she pulled away from the bruise she had been painting onto his tanned skin.

He looked down at her, his eyes nearly boring into hers as if searching for something, recognition? When he seemed satisfied in his findings he shrugged. “I thought it was pretty obvious I had a pretty big crush on you before you left for college.” He shrugged against his admittance. “I was pretty disappointed I never got up the courage to ask you out before you left me.”

Left me, left me. The voice on the phone, ‘waiting for you since you left, you left me’. Her smile faltered for a brief moment as she looked up at Kirk. Digging into her skin were the cold grimy hands of primal fear. Tracing across her body like the scattering of spider legs. She was being pulled down, the floor beneath her given way to an empty grave. Gone was any uncertainty about the way she felt towards him. She knew how she felt, terror.

Quickly she brightened her smile once more, beaming up at him in an awe and admiration fit only for a god and he preened under it. “Really?” She asked sweetly. “I'm sorry I really never knew, I guess I'm a little oblivious,” She laughed and hoped that she had kept the nervous edge out of it. He didn’t seem to notice. “You should have asked me out,” She nodded and swallowed hard. “Probably would have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

Kirk shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “Oh well, we're making up for it now.” He sighed none the wiser. He tugged her against his chest and laid back against her bed, their legs dangling over the edge of it. She shivered with the irrational fear of a monster gripping her ankle and dragging her down below. But really it wasn't all that irrational was it, not when that monster was cuddled up against her in a falsely protective embrace.

She was lying with death himself.

[half-of-a-gay]

Armor Between Us

Knight!Sevika x princess!reader

When political corruption, forbidden love, and an old enemy threaten the realm, Sevika must navigate her loyalties, her growing feelings for the princess, and the ghosts of her past to protect everything she holds dear.

Chaper 2

Scars of Honor

In a relentless campaign to protect her kingdom, Sir Sevika fights through weeks of brutal battles, her thoughts anchored by a token from the princess—until one fateful clash leaves her scarred, broken, and forever changed.

---

The battlefield was still, for now. A cold wind swept across the plains, carrying the scent of mud, steel, and the distant smoke of burning villages. Clouds rolled heavy and gray overhead, smothering the faint light of dawn.

Sevika tightened the straps of her armor, her fingers methodical, moving without thought. Each buckle, each plate, each adjustment was a ritual—a routine that steadied her against the growing tension knotting in her chest. Around her, soldiers murmured to one another, some whispering prayers, others sharpening blades or tending to their mounts. The air buzzed with the restless energy of men and women preparing to kill or be killed.

Beneath her breastplate, she could feel it—the faint press of fabric against her skin. Before donning her armor, she had folded the handkerchief with deliberate precision, smoothing the embroidered edges with the flat of her calloused hand. She’d wrapped it carefully around the linen strips she used to bind her chest, tucking it snugly over her heart in hopes that no blade or arrow could reach it. It wasn’t the hasty action of a soldier stuffing away a token for good luck; it was a ritual, quiet and unspoken, that she didn’t dare name. Now, as the weight of her armor pressed it close to her, she could feel it there—a fragile thing in a world of steel and blood.

Her gray eyes scanned the horizon, narrowing at the sight of the enemy banners flapping in the distance. Too far to see the faces of the men who carried them, but close enough to know they were coming. She exhaled through her nose, slow and measured. No fear. No hesitation. Not yet.

Her hand hesitated for a moment before resting against the cool steel of her breastplate, just over her heart. She told herself it was superstition—just a token, nothing more. But it wasn’t.

Her mind betrayed her in these moments, conjuring the princess’s face. The warmth in her voice, the steadiness in her hand as she’d offered the token, as if she’d known Sevika needed something to anchor her.

“You fight for the people who believe in you. And I believe in you.”

The memory rose unbidden, and Sevika shoved it aside. There was no room for softness now.

“Sir Sevika.”

The voice jolted her out of her thoughts. She turned sharply, her gaze meeting that of one of her esquires—a young man whose face was pale beneath his helmet.

“The men are ready,” he said, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his nerves.

Sevika nodded once, curt and commanding. “Good. Form the lines. We hold position until they come to us.”

The esquire saluted and hurried off, leaving Sevika alone again. She adjusted her gauntlet, checking the straps for the third time. Her muscles coiled tight with anticipation. There was no fear. She’d buried it long ago, the way soldiers learned to bury everything. And yet, beneath it all, she could still feel the faint weight of the handkerchief against her chest.

She allowed herself one fleeting thought, one whispered truth that she would never speak aloud: If I don’t survive this… at least I fought with her faith behind me.

The sound of the enemy war horns shattered the quiet. The storm had come.

Sevika mounted her horse in a single, practiced motion, her sword gleaming at her side. She didn’t look back. There was no point. All that mattered was what lay ahead.

“Hold the line!” she barked, her voice cutting through the rising din like a blade. “Stay steady!”

And then, as the enemy banners surged closer and the clash of steel became inevitable, Sevika touched her breastplate one last time. Just for a second.

Then she drew her sword and rode to meet the storm.

The first skirmish was over in hours, but the campaign stretched endlessly. Each new dawn brought another village to liberate, another fortress to storm, another trail of blood left behind.

Sevika’s days blurred into a rhythm of battle cries and steel on steel. By the second week, her armor bore the scars of countless clashes—dented plates, cracked edges. Her body fared no better. A shallow cut across her thigh from a bandit’s spear. A graze on her cheek that stung whenever sweat trickled over it. Yet still, she fought.

Every night, when the fires of their camp flickered low and the wounded moaned in their makeshift beds, Sevika sat alone beneath the stars. She’d unbuckle her breastplate with deliberate care, fingers aching from the day’s strain, and touch the handkerchief folded beneath her bindings.

She never dared to acknowledge the lingering thoughts of the princess—never let herself admit that the memory of her voice or the touch of her hand could steady her more than the steel of her blade. But in those moments, when the stars were the only witnesses, they came to her anyway. And though she didn’t want to, she let them linger.

By the third week, the enemy resistance hardened. They weren’t just chasing cowards from burned-out villages anymore—they were storming fortresses, breaking entrenched lines. The kingdom’s enemies fought with desperation, knowing their hold on the land was slipping.

It was during one such battle—a grueling siege against an enemy stronghold—that Sevika met her breaking point.

The fighting dragged on for hours. She was at the front of the charge, her sword cleaving through enemy after enemy, her soldiers rallying behind her. The air reeked of blood and smoke, and the clash of steel was deafening.

The blow came suddenly. A flash of steel in the corner of her vision, and then the searing, bone-deep pain of an enemy sword hacking into her left arm. The force of it nearly knocked her to the ground. Her hand spasmed, her sword slipping from her grasp as blood poured from the wound.

She staggered, gasping for breath, and braced herself for the killing blow. But it didn’t come.

One of her soldiers—a young knight she barely knew by name—threw himself between her and the enemy, his shield slamming into the attacker and sending them sprawling.

“Sir Sevika!” the knight shouted, his voice trembling with panic as he caught her before she fell.

But Sevika didn’t stay upright. The weight of her armor and the force of her injury dragged her to the blood-soaked ground. As she fell, her face struck the jagged edge of a shattered shield, splitting the skin along her cheek and brow. Pain exploded across her face, hot and sharp, and she tasted blood on her lips.

The knight dropped to his knees beside her, shielding her with his body as another enemy charge approached. “Hold on!” he yelled, his voice distant in her ears.

Sevika blinked, her vision swimming. Her bloodied arm hung useless at her side, and her good hand clutched at her chest, fingers brushing the handkerchief beneath her armor. I promised I’d keep it safe, she thought hazily, the princess’s voice echoing in her mind. For her.

The world spun as her legs buckled, and the knight dragged her back toward the safety of their lines. The sounds of battle dimmed as darkness closed in around her. Sevika’s last thought was not of the kingdom she had fought to protect, but of the princess who had believed in her. The last thing she heard before collapsing was the rallying cry of her soldiers.

They would win this battle, she knew. But she wouldn’t walk away whole.

[hai7ani]

It fills his heart with rage the minute she comments it to his face.

A friend of his parents, she'd introduced herself. She wears a tacky Chanel bag on her arm and heels too high for a woman her age to walk around in the city. The poodle next to her leg is fidgety and constantly spinning around in circles.

His jaw tightens.

She has no right.

His father is a busy man who's never given his family the time of the day. He was busy and strict, even with his own wife. They say it was because she couldn't take it anymore that she ran away and left her kids when they were 9 and 10.

"Do you still play the violin? I have a gala coming up in two days and I'd love for you to perform." There's lipstick on her two front teeth as she speaks.

The said violin sits in a box beneath his bed. It's covered in dust and webs and the strings are all snapped. His bow is broken in half, the book of sheet music filled with highlighter marks and tear stains ripped into pieces.

But they are all still in the box.

"You were always so good with the strings."

Of course he was.

He still has the scars on his back from his father's thick belt. One slip up with a note, or moving his fingers too fast, and it'll have him wallowing in bed for days.

He still stops to watch street performances in Shibuya and he still flinches when their bow moves on the strings the wrong way during warmups. Or when he recognises a face of the performer from back then 一 a boy who's attended the same music academy as him, except he's performing with a smile, like he's so happy.

Rindou can't relate.

"Your mother's always told me about your talent with music. She had high hopes for you."

His poor mother. He still thinks she's fully lost her mind when she left all those years ago. He did find a gun in her bag the night before she left home. Not sure how she's doing today.

If she's still alive.

"So? What do you say? Are you able to perform?"

"Will my father be there?" He only asks. There's confusion on her face when he finishes and does not make any move to further explain his question.

"Yes, he will be... Are you not speaking to him一"

"I'll perform. But only on one condition. Don't tell him I'll be there."

And then he walks away一 skates away, sorry. He skates away on his skateboard that his father has always called a delinquent activity 一 it's an Olympic sport today, by the way.

He laughs to himself when picking up an electric shaver from the store. He laughs with the owner when dropping off his poor-condition violin at the music store and a huge deposit to get it done in two days time.

He laughs when his girlfriend cries at the new haircut because she's always liked his hair long and blonde 一 but he's lucky he has the face shape to pull a buzzcut off.

He laughs when he stands before the crowd at Miyazaki's gala, shiny violin and a brand new bow in hand as he stares into his father's eyes, seated at the VIP table.

The man is speechless. But he still stands to clap with the rest as the music stops and he still pretends as if nothing has ever happened when they're pushed together for a photo by Miyazaki herself.

"Oh, God. Father and son. Talent with money and talent with music. This is very good."

Rindou finds his brother all the way in the back of the crowd just before the flash goes off 一 a black hoodie covering his face, but the younger still recognises him nonetheless.

He keeps his copy of the photo and stares at it while he smokes at the rooftop of the hotel. He resists the urge to burn it away with the tip of his cigarette whenever he'd blur his eyes to disassociate and then suddenly they smile the same in the photo. Like they're the same person.

But I've shaved my hair. I have my mother's eyes. Yet I still smile like him.

So do I look like him?

Rindou's the kinda guy who shaves his head bald the minute someone goes "you look just like your father, with your hair and all"

[pdwoozi]

[sunni-stuff]

Part 4

Soap’s eyebrows lifted with a curious glint in his eye as he looked from you to Adira, a playful grin edging onto his face. He leaned in, never one to miss a chance at a bit of friendly prodding.

“So… you’re married?” he asked, his tone as light as his smirk.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Haha! No, I’m not.” You gave Adira’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze, glancing down at her with a smile that softened every edge on your face. 

Soap tilted his head, pretending to be shocked. “A bonnie lass like yerself? Unmarried?” he teased, hand on his chest as though it were a crime.

“Guess I’m a rare breed,” you replied with a grin, chuckling as you shifted Adira’s hand in yours.

Soap’s face lit up at your response, as if he’d just been given the most interesting bit of news he’d heard all week. He shot Ghost a quick look, but Ghost was still watching Adira, his gaze softened with something unreadable.

Meanwhile, Gaz wasn't fascinated by Soap's ability to make anyone at ease, the man was a cassanova. Roach watched Adira with curiosity, as though piecing together a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed until now. Price stood off to the side, arms crossed, silently observing the whole scene.

“If you aren’t married, how’d you get this little one?” Soap pushed, grinning as he wiggled a playful finger in Adira’s direction.

Adira’s gaze snapped up from Ghost to the man with the funny hair, her little brow furrowing as she studied Soap with a mix of curiosity and caution. She leaned into your leg, clearly wary, but her attention stayed on the finger waving in front of her.

You chuckled, brushing a hand over Adira’s head to reassure her. “Long story,” you replied, smiling. “Let’s just say she was an unexpected blessing.”

Soap laughed softly, glancing at Ghost with a gleam in his eye. “Ah, aye, life’s full of surprises, eh?” 

Ghost, who had been studying Adira in silence, clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably as Soap’s words hit a little too close to home.

“I used to be really wild back in the day,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, a hint of nostalgia coloring your tone as you thought back to those not-so-distant years.

Soap wasn’t quite done yet, though. “Does the father know?” he threw a quick glance at Ghost, who had just risen from his crouched position. A new tension ran through Ghost’s frame, his stance rigid, as if the question had struck something he’d rather not confront.

You hesitated, a shadow crossing your expression before you shook your head. “No, he doesn’t… He, uh, probably has no idea.”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering from you to Adira, who was absorbed in her drink, unaware of the intensity surrounding her. His shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, he looked as though he wanted to speak—but whatever words he had caught in his throat, locked behind his silence.

"I see, well. I'm sorry if I took up your time, ma’am, you've been a nice chat," Soap said, his voice softening with a touch of politeness, his grin still present but more reserved now.

You nodded, giving Adira’s hand a gentle tug as you continued on your way, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound accompanying your steps. The blue sky stretched above, peaceful, serene. As you walked, Adira turned her head, glancing back at Ghost one final time. She refused to let go of her cup, her small fingers gripping it tightly, but she lifted her other hand in a small, hesitant wave. "Bye-bye," she whispered, her voice soft but sweet.

Ghost’s gaze lingered, but he didn’t move. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of things churning behind those eyes. 

Price let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and facing Ghost. “So... what’s the plan?” he asked, his tone both blunt and expectant, clearly waiting for some kind of direction. The rest of the team stood in silence, watching the exchange unfold.

Ghost didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained on you and Adira, watching you both disappear further down the street, the distance growing with each step. The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound in the quiet winter air. He didn’t even notice Price's voice until the man spoke again, closer now, with a slight edge to his tone.

"Ghost, talk to me. What’s the plan here?”

Finally, Ghost shifted, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched as he turned to face Price. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something caught between anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing regret.

"I don't know," he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips. "I wasn't expecting this. Hell, I didn't even know she existed." His voice was low, strained, but there was a quiet honesty to it, as if he was trying to process something that didn’t make sense.

Soap stepped closer, his expression serious for once. "What now, Ghost? We can help. But you need to tell us what's going on."

Ghost finally looked away, his attention drawn to the ground, his fingers twitching like he was trying to find something to hold onto. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. "All I know is... I saw her. And it hit me like a fucking truck."

Roach, always one to stay in the background, spoke up. “Maybe it’s time to talk to her, yeah? Figure out where to go from here?”

Price’s eyes narrowed, his stern gaze shifting to Ghost, assessing him. “And what exactly do you want from us? You’re in this, whether you like it or not.”

Ghost let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “But I can’t just let her slip away.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the weight of the situation settled in. Then, slowly, Ghost nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Just… not now. Not here.” His eyes flicked toward the street where you had disappeared, and something in his gaze softened, just for a moment, before the mask fell back into place.

Price gave a single nod. "Alright. But we stick together on this. You’re not doing it alone, Ghost."

The team stood together for a moment longer, the wind howling through the alley, before they slowly began to move, their steps trailing off into the winter evening. The silence that hung between them was thick with uncertainty. No one knew what came next, but they knew one thing for sure: whatever happened, they were in this together.

A month passed, the team giving Ghost the space he needed to process the whirlwind that had hit him. They all knew this was something he had to handle on his own terms, but that didn't mean the questions didn't linger. What did it mean for the future? What did he want? The answers were still unclear, even to Ghost himself.

But Soap, ever the persistent one, wasn’t content to let things sit in limbo. He knew Ghost, knew how his mind worked, and that sometimes the best way to breakthrough was to take small steps. And if that meant subtly nudging you into the picture, then so be it. He’d always been good at this—at slipping in the background, making things happen without anyone noticing.

So, Soap started to "accidentally" run nto you. At the park, when you were out with Adira, he'd make sure to be in the same place at the same time, offering a casual greeting. It always started simple, harmless, with a nod or a small comment about the weather. Then, of course, there was that coffee shop where you'd gone to get hot chocolate for Adira.

The first time he "bumped" into you there, it was nothing more than a quick exchange. A question about the drink, a comment on the cold weather, just the usual small talk. But Johnny's natural charm and ease made you relax, and made the conversation flow without much effort. Over time, those small moments grew. You'd smile when you'd see him, and he'd greet you with the same friendly energy, always leaving you feeling at ease. No pressure, just casual.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Johnny began to warm you up to the idea of him. It wasn't much at first—a smile here, a shared laugh there—but he knew what he was doing. He wasn't pushing, just letting the connection build at its own pace. The more you saw him, the more comfortable you felt. The more you talked, the more you found yourself enjoying the interactions, even if they were brief.

One evening, Johnny sat beside you on the park bench, casually leaning back as Adira bounced around in the snow, her laughter filling the crisp air. The sound was contagious, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, watching her with a soft smile.

"So, me and a couple friends are meeting up at Leslie's this weekend," Johnny said, his tone light but with a hint of something more. "Would you be interested?"

You snorted, expecting the usual joke or teasing, but when you glanced over at him, his expression was far more serious than you anticipated. For a moment, you considered dismissing it. After all, Leslie's? A pub? That was a far cry from the cozy routine you’d built for yourself with Adira. 

“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I fit the scene."

Johnny shrugged nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that playful grin of his. “Please. It'll just be like old times.”

Your mind immediately wandered, trying to understand what he meant by that. What was it about old times that Johnny thought might appeal to you? You didn’t exactly have a wild past to cling to. Sure, you’d had your moments, but those felt long behind you now. 

Still, something about the invitation lingered. A night out... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You hadn’t done anything for you in a while. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to let someone else take care of the night for once. No worrying about Adira, no responsibilities for a few hours. Just some fun, whatever that meant now.

You hesitated, looking down at Adira as she made another snow angel, oblivious to the conversation happening nearby. She’d be fine, right? And you could leave if things felt uncomfortable. 

“Alright,” you finally said, meeting Johnny’s gaze with a reluctant but genuine smile. "I'll join you. But only if it’s not as crazy as you’re making it sound." 

Johnny’s grin widened, and you could tell he was already mentally planning the evening, no doubt with some plan to ease you in without overwhelming you. He stood up, dusting off the snow on his pants as he glanced back at you.

“Deal. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember.”

You just hoped he wasn’t overselling it.

The weekend seemed to arrive so fast, and here you were, standing outside your apartment, nervously adjusting your blue blouse and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the type of outfit you thought would fit a night out, but it was the best you could do. Most of your wardrobe these days consisted of comfortable clothes, ones that could be easily changed or wiped clean in case Adira had another of her toddler mishaps. Sexy or flirty clothes were a distant memory, tucked away in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust.

Adira stood in the doorway, clutching her little stuffed bear to her chest, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. The sight hit you harder than you expected. You knelt down in front of her, your heart sinking at the sight of her teary eyes. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, I promise,” you said, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out to her with a reassuring smile.

Adira sniffled, her tiny hand coming up to rub her eyes, but she didn’t break her stare. You held out your pinky, the gesture as familiar as breathing. Slowly, she reached out, her small finger wrapping around yours with the same trust she always had. The connection was brief, but it felt like a promise, one that you hoped would calm her.

"I won't be out long," you said softly to the friend you’d left with her. "And you, be good for Auntie too." The last part was directed at Adira, though the words felt bittersweet on your tongue.

Adira nodded, but her face still held that sadness, that uncertainty of what the night would bring without you. 

Standing up, you ruffled her hair and offered a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just a little fun for Mama, okay?”

Her small nod didn’t do much to ease the tightness in your chest, but you turned and gave her one last look before stepping outside. The cool evening air wrapped around you, a contrast to the warmth of the apartment behind you, but you pushed the feeling away. Tonight was for you, however strange that sounded. 

Locking the door behind you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t just any night out. It was a night with Johnny, with his friends, with the possibility of reconnecting to parts of yourself you’d set aside for so long.

Arriving outside the establishment, the familiar hum of chatter and music filled the night air, but what caught your attention first was Johnny standing outside, leaning against the brick wall, checking his watch. The moment his eyes met yours, they lit up, his expression shifting from casual to something almost... eager. 

“Well, well, look at you,” he said with that trademark wink of his, his gaze raking over you with a genuine appreciation that made you feel suddenly self-conscious. “You clean up well.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. It was hard to resist the easy charm of Johnny.

“Let’s just hope I survive this night,” you muttered, though the words were more for yourself than him. You weren’t sure what to expect tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things might not go as smoothly as Johnny seemed to think.

Johnny chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’m sure you will. Now, let’s get going before I change my mind.”

With that, you fell into step beside him, the weight of your hand at your side suddenly feeling strange in the cool night air. He led you toward the door, and as you entered the dimly lit space of the bar, your eyes scanned the room. 

It was bustling, a mix of regulars and newcomers, all seeking solace or company for the night. It smelled of beer, whiskey, and the faintest hint of fried food, a familiar and welcoming kind of atmosphere. But as soon as you stepped inside, your nerves shot back up again. You tried not to let the nerves show, but they were there, itching under your skin.

What you didn’t notice, as you made your way to the bar, was the group inside. Ghost, Price, Gaz, Roach—quietly observing, waiting for their chance to either speak to you or simply let you slip through their fingers once more. Ghost’s eyes tracked you the moment you stepped inside, and there was a hesitation in his gaze, something raw and almost pained that flickered in and out. 

For a moment, Ghost didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched you, aware that the moment he’d been dreading—he had finally stumbled into. Your gaze met his across the room, the flicker of recognition passing between you both. But that was it. You didn’t remember. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what he was to you.

Approaching the bar, you saw that Johnny was already leaning in, chatting with the bartender, exchanging friendly banter. You barely heard the words, only caught up in the feeling that something was different. Something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced back at the table where those men sat. They weren’t talking, but their eyes were all trained on you, as if waiting for something to happen.

Your heart raced without explanation. Ghost’s eyes—those eyes—stayed locked on you. He didn’t know how to approach, how to change what had already seemingly been set in stone. What was he supposed to say? What was the plan now that you were here, so close? God, why the fuck did johnny do this.

Johnny leaned toward you again, a soft smile curling his lips. “You good, love?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the uneasy tension brewing in your chest. “Just... getting used to being out.”

Johnny winked again, oblivious to the chaos of emotions swirling within you. “It’s all good. Let’s have some fun tonight, yeah?”

Ghost’s fist clenched involuntarily under the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this distance, this silent acknowledgment of his role, or how long he could ignore what it meant to see you here now. 

“You’ll fit right in,” Johnny said, though there was a hint of something deeper behind his words. “Just a bunch of mates enjoying a drink, nothing crazy.” Johnny leads you over to the table, you expected to be met with… well you didn't quite know what.  

Price leaned back in his seat, cigar in hand, a soft smile on his weathered face as he regarded you with a raised brow. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

"Neither did I," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile and doing your best to ignore the gnawing feeling that lingered when you looked at him. You hadn’t quite expected this part of the evening.

“I’m just here for a drink, nothing more,” you said, looking over at Johnny was getting comfortable in his chair.

“Well, pull up a seat, love,” Price said, motioning to the empty spot next to him. “We’re all friends here.”

You hesitated but made your way over, perching yourself on the seat next to him. The sound of the glass being slid toward you, the clink of ice against glass, broke through the chatter around you. Your nerves buzzed as you focused on the drink in front of you, trying to ignore the sudden realization of just how different this was from the quiet, routine life you had at home with Adira.

“Enjoy yourself,” Price said with an air of casual amusement, leaning back in his chair. “This is all new for you, isn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to admit just how out of place you felt in the moment. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of whiskey warming you from the inside out.

You laugh lightly, a bit awkwardly, trying to shake off the nerves that gnawed at you. "Yeah, this all a bit... newish. I haven't been out like this in years honestly," you admit, taking a deep breath and glancing around the bar. The warmth of the space was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, but the sight of the men made you feel more like a fish out of water than ever.

Johnny claps you on the back with an easy grin, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “These are my mates. Price, Kyle, Gary, and Simon," he introduces with a flourish, motioning to each man in turn. 

You give them all a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of them just yet. There was something about the way they carried themselves, all standing a little apart from the crowd, that made it clear they were more than just regulars at the pub. But you didn’t have time to focus too much on that right now. You were trying to just survive the night.

Price, who looked a bit older than the rest, nods at you, his gaze thoughtful, almost cautious. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a tone that is polite but distant, as though he’s waiting for something, some sign.

Kyle, as Johnny had called him—gives you a friendly nod, a playful glint in his eyes, but there's a strange sharpness to his look that you can’t quite place. “Pleasure," he says, offering you a tight smile.

Gary simply gives you a quick but sincere nod. His eyes linger on you just long enough for you to catch a flicker of interest before he looks away.

And then there’s Simon. His presence, as always, is quieter, more intense. He’s sitting in the middle, arms crossed, his gaze fixed directly on you. You can feel the weight of it, though. It’s impossible not to. There was something you couldn't place with him though you couldn’t see too well under the dim light.

You try to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. “Nice to meet you all," you reply, your voice warmer than you feel. 

Johnny, oblivious to the awkwardness in the air, slaps the bar and gives a nod. “Alright, drinks all around, yeah? Let’s get this party started!” he declares, pulling the group into the rhythm of the night.

As the revelry began your stomach churns slightly, a sense of unease still lingering despite the distraction. You knew something was off, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the men—it was the way Simon’s gaze lingered on you, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for something. It unsettled you, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Johnny, seemingly oblivious to your tension, slides a drink toward you. “First round’s on me," he grins, the clink of glass against the table snapping you back to the present. "Here’s to a good night.”.

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the nerves that still clung to you. This was supposed to be a night out, after all. A chance to shake off the past, to let loose just a little. You couldn’t let the weight of everything pull you under before you even tried. What would be the point if you didn’t at least try and enjoy yourself?

Shaking the tension from your shoulders, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of alcohol easing the knot in your stomach just slightly. The guys were chatting among themselves, Johnny’s laughter cutting through the low hum of the bar as he joked with Kyle. Price was listening intently, nodding along while Gary seemed content to let the others talk, his eyes occasionally flicking to you, though his gaze didn’t linger long.

And then there was Simon.

His presence loomed even when he wasn’t speaking, his broad frame leaning against the bar just slightly, face half hidden by the shadows. You caught his eyes for a split second, the intensity of his stare making your pulse hitch. You quickly looked away, focusing on your drink, your nerves creeping back up despite the effort to push them aside.

You could feel his gaze on you, though, like a weight pressing against your back. You tried not to let it show, tried not to acknowledge how his proximity seemed to pull at something inside you, but it was impossible to ignore. There was a pull, something in the air, but you couldn’t quite grasp it.

Sighing inwardly, you turned your attention back to the others. Just enjoy yourself, you remind yourself again. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of it.

Johnny clinked his glass against yours, a grin on his face. “Here’s to not letting the night pass us by,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile back, lifting your glass.

“Cheers,” you said, the warmth of the alcohol giving you just the nudge you needed to ease into the evening. For now, you’d ignore the tight feeling in your chest. You’d enjoy yourself. 

But the eyes that lingered on you would remain, whether you were ready for them or not.

You pushed your chair back with more force than necessary, the scrape of it against the floor loud in the otherwise quiet bar. The conversation still echoed in your ears, but your focus had been on the man, Simon, for the past half hour. His silence had become suffocating, every glance he cast in your direction feeling like it held some hidden meaning. You couldn't quite place it, but something was off about him. His eyes, cold and intense, had followed you too much, made you second guess every word you’d said.

"Im... gonna go powder my nose," you muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else. You didn’t wait for a response, the words barely out of your mouth before you were already making your way across the room, past the low hum of idle chatter and the clink of glasses.

While you were in the bathroom, the entire team turned their attention towards Ghost, each of them sizing him up, starting with Soap.

"What is wrong with you?" Soap asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"What?" Simon blinked, genuinely confused.

"Mate, you've been gawking at her all night," Gaz added, raising an eyebrow, his voice teasing but laced with concern.

"Shit. Are you serious?" Simon muttered, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze didn't stray far from where you had just disappeared.

Roach, leaning back casually with his drink in hand, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's like you’ve been stuck in a staring contest with her since she walked in."

Price, who had been watching quietly, shook his head with a resigned sigh. He snuffed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray, eyes narrowing as he met Simon's gaze. "If you scared her off, I doubt you’ll get another chance, lad."

Simon’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t realized how obvious it had been, but now that the team was calling him out on it, he felt the heat rise in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but the pull to look at you, to remember what had sparked your connection all those years ago had been almost magnetic.

“Alright, alright,” Soap teased, leaning in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just don't burn a hole in her head.”

“Shut up,” Simon muttered, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse.

Price shared a look with the rest of the team, a silent understanding passing between them. While Soap might have been the one to set this whole thing in motion, it didn't mean the others didn't have contingencies in place. 

Soap got up first, stretching a bit. “Gonna make sure no one's tried to get in my car,” he said with a casual tone.

“I’ll come with you,” Gaz chimed in, already pushing himself up from his seat and following Soap toward the door.

A minute later, Roach also stood, excusing himself without a word, and then Price followed suit, his movements deliberate. “I’m gonna make sure they’re not up to anything,” he said with a knowing glance.

With everyone out of the immediate area, the bar suddenly felt quieter, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. It took Ghost only a second for it all to click—he had been set up. Without thinking, he bolted from his seat, rushing outside just in time to catch the taillights of Soap's car disappearing down the street.

He cursed under his breath, but before he could make another move, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen. There, in simple words from Price: 

“Good luck.”

Ghost stood still for a moment, phone in hand, as the weight of the situation hit him. His heart thudded in his chest. This was it. There was no turning back now.

By the time you returned to the table, you felt a bit more at ease. The night out wasn’t all that bad… it was just that Johnny had some weird taste in friends. Well, mostly the tall one. You couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to have left, a pit forming in your stomach at the thought of being ditched.

You let out a quiet sigh, about to gather your things and head out when your phone lit up in your purse. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Johnny. 

"Emergency, looks like one of the beers wasn't that good, poor Kyle threw up."

You paused, reading the message again, a small smile tugging at your lips. Aww… nevermind. At least they hadn’t forgotten about you after all. 

"Hope he's okay." You replied quickly, grabbing the straps of your bag when suddenly a hand landed on top of yours.

You looked up, meeting the intense gaze of Simon. Seriously? You couldn’t help but think. They took everyone but this guy?

You forced a smile, trying to pull your hand away, but Simon’s grip was firm, not unkind. “Look, I had a decent time, but I have to go—”

“Just a minute,” he interrupted, his voice low, steady, almost pleading. There was something about the way he said it that made you pause, something different than the usual small talk.

"Fine." The word slipped out before you could process it, and you cursed yourself inwardly. Really? You just agreed to stay with the guy who hadn’t stopped staring since you met him. You sat back down, and he mirrored you, settling across the table. 

Silence stretched between you, his intense gaze unwavering. He didn’t so much as blink, and you couldn’t help but feel more unsettled by the second.

What the hell is his deal?

“Look, if you're just going to be a creep, I don't think I want to mee—"

“Do you remember Armed Forces Day?” His voice cut through your words, quiet but resolute.

Okay, this took all day, I wanted to give you all something long to read incase I disappear for finals (which I might)

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[tender-rosiey]

Hi. This is my first time writing arequest so i dont really know what im doing but i love your husband sukuna series and i wanna ask for a husband sukuna with a shy baby daughter bc your sukuna is 🤌

reluctance — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works <33 hope this one is to your liking as well MWUAH 🫶

“come on, d/n,” you coax gently.

your daughter, barely two years old, shakes her head from behind your legs, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of your kimono as she hides from the imposing figure of her father.

sukuna stands at the doorway, his arms crossed, his usual stern expression in place.

“she’s still hiding?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, his deep voice filling the room, though it isn’t harsh.

you kneel, gently petting your daughter’s head, “she’s shy. you know how she gets when you’re around.”

sukuna exhales slowly. he observes your daughter quietly. wide-eyed but cautious, her tiny fingers tightening their grip on you. your daughter was notably quite soft.

it didn’t help that her father, sukuna, didn’t exactly have the most inviting presence.

“come here,” he says, his tone gruff, holding out a hand.

the little girl hesitates, her bottom lip trembling slightly. you place a reassuring hand on her back and whisper softly, “it’s okay” you smile, “that’s your dad; he won’t hurt you.”

at your words, sukuna looks down at your daughter, his daughter.

she looks up at you, then back at sukuna. with the smallest shuffle, she takes one step toward him then sees him quirk an eyebrow which makes her quickly retreat, still unsure.

sukuna clicks his tongue, while you giggle. your daughter clings harder onto you at the sound of his disapproval.

“she sure is jumpy,” he says, stretched hand moving to rest on his hips, “how the hell is that my daughter?”

“ever studied biology?”

“do not get smart with me,” he warns, but his threats have long lost their effect on you.

the little interaction gives your daughter a sense of familiarity, seeing you talk so easily with him. with some courage finally mustered, your daughter blinks up at sukuna, her small voice barely audible as she mumbles, “papa...?”

sukuna’s sharp gaze relaxes just the faintest bit at the sound of her voice, “yes. I’m right here.”

she stares for another moment, before she toddles over to him. she stumbles and holds desperately onto his legs. she looks up at him, and he gives her no reaction.

your daughter takes that as a good sign, and she looks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“there you go,” you laugh, standing up. “see? not so bad.”

sukuna looks at your daughter, then back at you, “you coddle her too much.”

you fold your arms with a playful smirk, “she’s two. she’s allowed to be coddled a little.”

“she’ll be stronger if she learns early.” sukuna’s voice is firm. she is clinging to him now, a little less hesitant as she begins to tug at his kimono.

she lets out small mumbles as she tries to gain his attention.

"uh-huh, sure," you tease, stepping closer and placing your hand on his forearm, "you’re so tough, honey. maybe we should get her a little curse to toughen her up. would that make you happy?"

he scoffs but doesn’t answer, his attention flicking back to the girl holding onto him. you could see the faintest hint of something in his expression, though it wasn’t something he would ever acknowledge verbally.

for some reason, the scene of his daughter faced with a curse, at least in this age, doesn’t particularly please him.

her eyes are soft. her entire being is. there is no way that she would survive, and knowing his little daughter, she will burst into tears the moment the curse appears. that conclusion makes him think.

he stays silent, before he finally mutters, "never mind. she's fine the way she is.”

you beam at his words and pull his face down to place a kiss on his cheek, “aww, you are going soft, yay!”

“I will kill you,” he sneers, but then he feels his daughter raise her arms. he looks down at her with a scowl, “what do you want, you brat?”

the tone makes her flinch back, but then she tightens her fist and stutters, “u-up!”

“you and your mother are insolent,” he side-eyes you, and you raise your hands in surrender. his eyes flick back to her, “you ordering me around?”

her eyes start to water, but she tries to persevere, “up…?”

your husband groans and bends down to pick her up. the way he gives into her demands is sweet in its own way.

it would make you laugh, if he didn’t pick you up in process which instead makes you gasp. now, both you and your daughter are carried—effortlessly—in his arms.

you smile widely at your husband, while he avoids looking at you. sukuna instead looks at you daughter. he then asks, “are you happy now?”

your daughter stares silently at him, and he stares at her back. in the midst all this staring, your daughter realizes something: her dad has a second face.

her lips start quivering, and she raises her hands to cover her face as she starts bawling and wailing

“ugh, why is she crying now?” your husband groans, irked by the sudden loud noise.

“your face probably scares her.”

“I hate kids.”

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